Extinct (an acrostic poem)

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Every single one of them were gone

X marked the spot where the last one had died

That seemed such a minor thing at the time, and yet

It was the beginning of the end for the rest of us

Now I stand here to make another monument

Chiseling an X using my fingernails on the spot I stand

This is where the last of us will take their final breathe

Digger (an acrostic poem)

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Dirt packed under his ragged fingernails

It was something he prided himself on

Grabbing the wrench he went back to work

Giving another shot at fixing the old backhoe

Even though the brand new one sat right next to it

Really didn’t want to let his dear friend go quite yet