Waves crash through the silence, from days long gone,
Lucy tunes the dial, where the lost songs throng.
Voices from the past, in static and rhyme,
Broadcasting secrets, through the sands of time.
The airwaves hum with a ghostly call,
Echoes of the world before the fall.
She listens to the stories, the truths they sell,
Each frequency a tale, where memories dwell.
Signals through time, riding on the air,
Old world meets new, in the static they share.
Lucy's hand on the radio, dialing through despair,
Finding hope in voices, from elsewhere.
A crackle of life, from the radio's face,
The sounds of laughter, a forgotten embrace.
Underneath the rubble, the radio's grace,
Lends a voice to the silence, a forgotten place.
The past calls out to the beat of the now,
Lucy finds her answers, the radio shows how.
The chords of history play a melancholy tune,
As she dances to the old world, under the new moon.
And as she tunes out the static, the signal comes clear,
The voices of yesterday, close and so dear.
In the crackle of the airwaves, the past she'll outgrow,
With the radio as her guide, through the wasteland she'll roam.