Self-Plus-Seven, Saved

The din awakens me Hall smoke alarm screaming like a banshee Smoke everywhere, though I see no flames I reach up through the thick black fumes and yank the battery Silencing the banshee, but I hear sirens approaching Thank god - someone has seen and called - one less thing I'm the only one home and the cats are at the groomers - lucky, that My first thought - what's irreplaceable? (There's not much time) ... Artwork on the walls, mostly Mom's and Sis' Fast as I can I run from room-to-room Grabbing the frames off the walls by their hanging wires Only two trips, heavy, but I drag them, knowing they can be re-framed later Next ... my recorded material in the studio Other end of the house, so I stop at my office Grabbing my document folder from the safe, (open, thankfully) If there's time I'll come back ... quick to the studio I snatch my recordings, (now all on stick or card), from under the console Already in a safe box - fireproof, supposedly, but I won't take the chance Back outside to drop loads two and three Now what?? Mementos ... family keepsakes I can't replace I grab the paper bin by the door and scan each room again Fitting what I can inside it - small antiques, precious gifts and the like Back to the lawn with load four, then into the smoky hall Now, photographs ... I'm lucky here, too, for they're already centralized Albums in a rolling rack inside the hall closet I have trouble with the folding louvers, so I just kick them in Grabbing the handle, I haul the photos down the steps and out, load five Back in, and the smoke is so thick I can barely see I'm crouched low now and coughing, a bit dizzy The home movies ... old and on Super 8 and 8mm I take a shopping bag from the wall and head to the living room Straight to the end table draw, tearing the movie rolls out and bagging them I see the flames now, licking through the doorway from the garage I'm close, and the heat is nigh unbearable ... go!! Back outside and the fire trucks are at the end of the street Only one last trip remaining, and I'm torn So many things to treasure, and time is short ... back in I scream back to the studio and take my favorite guitar off the wall It's a rare 1968 Gibson L5 CES, mint condition, with few alike I'm very woozy now and wondering if I'll make it out The smoke is so thick, and every gasp burns my lungs The heat is oppressive in the hallway I dash back into the office and grab the gold sack out of the safe But about halfway toward the door I drop it Feeling quite faint, I leave it behind Struggling to the front door with the L5 in hand The fire department meets me at the door "The garage!" I yell, and fall into the arms of a responder Weak, dizzy, but still hanging on to my favorite guitar I see a fireman enter with an axe, and the irony makes me smile (Despite the grief of seeing my home being consumed by flames) That's it, I'm done ... but thankful for my life And the seven things I was able to rescue More than most, I muse ... Letting exhaustion take me. Written and submitted on February 23, 2019 For the "Seven Things You Would Save If Your House Was On Fire" Poetry Contest Caren Krutsinger, Judge & Sponsor. Seven Things: artwork, document folder, recording safe box, memento bin, photo rack, home movie sack, L5 guitar.