Burning Memories

Smoke billows

In twists and curves

Around the skeletal

Frame.

 

This was a house once,

With dreams and

Memories

A house that echoed

With the whispers

And laughter

Of tiny mouths

And pinkish lips.

 

These walls,

Now blackened ash

And crisp white dust

Held secrets,

Embedded in the

Very bricks

Of its construction.

 

Now the breeze

Wails amongst the

Blackish furniture

Which once held

Screaming children

And laughing guests.

 

 

You stand before it

Your hands,

Which once clutched

The shining brass

Doorknobs,

Empty of anything

That might savour

The essence of that place.

 

You stoop to lift

Something from the

Singed grass.

It glitters softly

In the reddish glow,

Its metallic casing

Silvery.

 

 

I look quickly away.