I stood in the doorway
dazed by the sight
resting my eyes on the remains
of sheets scarred by flames.

Ashes grazed the aisles
of what used to be a garden of words,
now rippling across the surrounding corners.

Withered paper swaying in the wind
chasing after the storm that descended
their unlikely fate.

Leaving traces on the plain floor
opening a sketch of a blooming flower,
but soon gone with my foolish imagination.

Dawn soon appeared
with a song of sadness
ringing with hope behind it.

Ashes that had been buried
were risen with the cold bitter rain,
and washed away.

Soon it had been satisfied
with taking the last bit
of my brittle, frail memory.