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.