A Crumbling House Aflame

  Flickering flames burn brightly overhead

  The scent of charcoal dominates the air

  Faces aglow with shades of dancing red

  Try as we might, some give into despair

  Despite our cries, valuables burst to flames:

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  A child’s hand-carved cradle, A father’s treasured suit

  Regardless of owner, consumed all the same.

  The walls of our home, darkened by the soot

  Mocking us all, the flame crackles out loud

  Embers flying, the foundation is falling

  Perhaps these are flames no water can douse

  Perhaps we should weep without even trying

  Or perhaps we could look past the ruckus,

  Roll up our sleeves and run for the buckets.