Memories of Fire
By Sascha M
I saw the trees, a wall of fire
The roar of wind
The acrid smoke
The bush became a funeral pyre.
I heard the sirens in the streets,
the screech of brakes
the flashing lights
the water flying down in sheets.
I felt the panic of the town,
the constant talk,
the jam of cars,
the threat of houses burning down.
Now it has been a year,
the shoots of green,
the blackened tracks
the animal sounds I cannot hear
The trails I walk down are barely there
The way is lost.
The past is new.
The memories I will bear.