Got to escape the fire,
escape the dark.
The building's burning,
turning order to chaos.
The mile-high smoke plume
proclaiming present doom.
Glowing cinders floating
like buzzing bees.
He's
running and stumbling
over broken beams.
Backdrafts blowing
doors off hinges,
singeing the fringes
of furniture
and fixtures.
Textiles turning
from beauty
to ash.
One last gasp
then he crashes
through the window's glass.
At last,
a fresh breath
of freedom.
///
5/10
3 comments:
Really like this - especially the imagery of "Glowing cinders floating
like buzzing bees".
Nice writing!
Love the flow and rhythm of -
Backdrafts blowing
doors off hinges,
singeing the fringes
of furniture
and fixtures.
Singer and Susannah, thanks so much for your comments! I do appreciate it.
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