SmokeA Poem by Andromedacomes after Book Burners
She watched as the book
The one she could have saved, Though saved with the price of her Own life. She watched as the book Wept in the flames: Pages folding and Quivering In an odd cacophony, Like The death throes in an opera. It seemed to her that the smoke that the Book Burners inhaled Glowed a Shade of wistful, mourning blue Like Poes Valley of Unrest And stunk Of dreams Transformed to ash. As the Book Burners Looked on, And as the Smoke of Homer Smoke of Twain Smoke of Hughes exploding dream Cloaked the once-clear air She longed to do nothing more than join in this pagan parade, To toss her self upon the flames, To send herself up in ashen gray Up into the air: A black beacon of better days. © 2008 AndromedaAuthor's Note
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