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Home.
January 13, 2014
We had shifted our bodies
Towards the warmth of the fireplace
Sitting in two charred
Rocking chairs.
The fire cracks and
Pops and spews ashes
As I add dense, dry
Wood logs.
Cold glasses of water
With Ice cubes bouncing
Back and fourth,
Sweating on the glass as
The fire warms it up.
I know you are thinking
About home,
About the beautiful sun room
Sprawled on the ground in ashes
About a giant engulfing flame
And everything you own
Slowly disappearing,
The sound of sirens
Racing to the scene,
Spraying water at the flame,
And a black pile of burnt wood
You call the remains.
© Anonymous
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