Photo by Gary Ellis on Unsplash
I was nine when the
fire started. Escaping,
I could feel the heat.
Flames, fanned by the cruel
breeze. “It’s not your fault,” they said.
I watched as they tried,
but their efforts just...
mist - a gentle, warm rain on
an ocean ablaze.
Once home, now rubble,
dirt. Smoldering memories.
I still feel the heat.
About the Creator
Evan W
teacher, learner, adventurer, writer. trying my best most of the time.
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