• Gasoline, an acrid smell
    That perfumes the infant embers.
    Flames leap like dancing girls
    And the rush of heat
    Flushes like a fever
    Embracing, licking, tasting
    The wood and delicate paper
    As soot paints shadows
    On grease ladden walls
    Where pictures once hung.
    Reaching to the sky
    With orange tipped fingers
    Worthy of greatness.
    While blue ashes claim the rubble
    Where beauty had rested.
    Gone as the fire laid waste to all
    And goodbye whispers the match
    As it all goes up in smoke