Thursday, December 23, 2021


 The Great Fire

The sky was a septic ashen gray

As if an entire town,

Somewhere far away,

Had recently burned to the ground 

And this smoky shroud of impenetrable mist,

Wafted here by the collective exhalatory

Sigh of a few hundred survivors,

Was all we’d ever know

Of the sufferings of strangers.


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