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Phantasmagorical Flames
Mesmerized by phantasmagorical flames
brandishing cerise, fuchsia
and crimson-colored
tongues of fire;
I marvel at the beauty of the beast.
I see the chard smoldering underbelly
of the flames, cloaked
in bellowing blankets of thick smoke;
its flames lapping at the coating of hope
someone had amply applied to their dream home.
I hear the glass windows
screaming as the broken panes
shatter the illusion of a quiet death;
and the house, no longer a home, crumbles.
I witness irreplaceable memories
melt like plastic soldiers
stationed at the gates of hell;
with little chance of rescue or survival.
I smell the acrid stench of fear
clinging to the hopelessness
of a devastated family;
like an inoperable cancer
that has metastasized.
I grasp the stark reality that confronts me;
and a tear trickles down my cheek.
Copyright ©
Emile Pinet
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