Challenge
You're a Pompeiian poet. Volcanic ash is raining down. You write one last poem. What is it?
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A white cloud drifts from above
Filling those around me in fear
Yet I am not afraid
The white cloud brings peace
Silence
The people flee
Yet I watch, and wait
I see the beauty of the ash
How it will preserve our lives
I see the future
That many will learn from us
And I feel peace
That my time has come at last