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Monday, August 6

All that burns, dies...

All that burns, dies...

In the dying light,
The bright faces shone,
The faded picture tarnished,
By time alone...

Used and abused by fingers aplenty,
The creased edges shied away,
The picture lit up one last time,

One last time, today...

The hiss of a lit match,
A cathartic bind,
A little too late,
For a change of mind...

From a far corner,
The smoke rose in a spire,
The faces vanished,
Slowly eroded by fire...

Erased memories,
Broke free with ease,
Wisps of black flew by,
Unguided by the breeze...