Grey and black fell
from the bright blue sky like confetti
and in the distance, on a large hill, was a little
wooden home that had fallen prey to the bright fire.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Red and orange in
every direction.
The wood, once rich in color
had turned black and looked less alive than ever.
Gradually, red and orange grew as they feasted
on the little home on the hill
Consuming everything in
their path
like a child
who has recognized
hunger as his acquaintance
for too long.
Heat makes it gradual way
towards its victim.
Aggressive
ruthless
as it robs them of precious breath.
Incessant yells and cries have
lost meaning. No more point for I will not sway.
Stinging lies behind their
glassy brown eyes
and a burning that has taken up residence deep
in their throats.
Tendrils of red and orange reach out to grip their tiny, fragile bodies.
Holding them close, embracing them and keeping them trapped
within scalding, red walls until all that is left are the white cages
from underneath their skin.
And the fingers that had reached out begging for air,
remain motionless, lifeless as they sleep on the ground.
The fire continues its path, its dance.
Winding down from hill to hill, village to village, consuming
as if starved.
Currently working on the next part to the poem. If it's not too much trouble, I would really appreciate it if you could vote. It would really help me a lot so thanks! :)
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of The Elements
PoetryJump into A Collection of The Elements and explore the turmoil, chaos, danger, beauty, and breathtaking moments that the world has to offer.
