How typical the fire spills
Itself over the hearth
Designed to warm the living room
And open up its hearts
Now crackling it burns so bright
'Til hot the room becomes
And sweat rolls down its patrons chest
And smoke lives in her lungs
A sputtering sound of an engine lit
Is exiting a mouth
While the tickling fingers of the flames
Play around the house
A spider in the window sill wanders on his web
Fleas caught inside of it already are dead
Melting spindles, soften slow
As the bright light quickly grows
Reflecting on the spotless glass
Reminiscent of a colder past.
Far off in the distance -
a bold young rooster crows
His pretty plumes of feathers
Expanding from his throat
A sleepy little farm hand
This noise does awake
And up from his bed he crawls;
Outside he shakes
Bell tolls follow a trail of sick
Shined shoes tracing bricks
Water buckets floating through
Reach a building turned to ruins
But a cow grazes nearby
And a lark chirps a tune above in the sky
A beam breaks, dust falls
When cleared away, no longer tall
Rain comes, day goes
A funeral? Nobody knows
Pitter patter little feet
What a great place for hide and seek.
©lenarosew
L