morning fire
up the street where we used to
live,
a baby died.
smoke inhalation.
i remember my mother
walking up there
to watch the firemen
put the fire out.
we followed her,
close behind, ducks
in a row,
and watched as they
carried the baby
down the stairs.
i remember holding my
mother's hand
as she trembled and cried.
when there was nothing more
to look at,
she gathered us all
together to go home.
where she carefully
combed each head of
hair, and hugged us,
before we went
off to school.
No comments:
Post a Comment