Back when big words were gratuitous
and math did not count,
there was a hint of smoke,
wisps rising from a barely-kindled fire.

The alarm does not sound until the flames consume everything.
the firemen are rushed to the scene,
armed with their hoses, MDs and prescription pads,
ready to douse the blaze
leaving everything wet and smoldering.

Even when the smoke clears,
there is still ash and debris.
You can scrub the soot off, top-to-bottom
and replace the furniture all you want,
but the threat of the fire is always present,
waiting for a drought or complacency to strike
and what is you left with after that?
The golden, glowing embers full of heat and forgotten.
It never ends.