Tuesday, March 24, 2015

FIRES OF HELL



FIRES OF HELL

A hot sight to see.
Now part of the sea.
Gone the lush paradise
By a toss of the dice.

The flames come ashore.
The town is no more.
We flee in despair.
Single or in pair.

Low and behold our loss.
Ground that will grow no moss.
Now grass brown and brittle.
Where there once was thistle.