The Flames
Student’s Name
Institutional Affiliation
The Flames
Whispers all over, ‘Is it going to die or end?’
She does not want to stop; the rain is too much; the drops are heavy,
Does she really care about what they say? She has not even looked at them.
I know she would not stop; the flames are what she needs; it is hope for her.
She dangerously smiles, hugging her skinny self to herself; she is nervous.
“Will she come back? Please stop,” the whispers are too much for her.
The mud on her favorite black boots, her long wavy hair now in a mess
Ashes all over, she collects some and stares longingly at them
“Here is what I call home,” She says to weakly self and wipes the rolling tears.
The whispers can’t stop; they are becoming louder and louder
The rain drops are becoming unbearable, but she hugs the ashes on her hand.
The flame is all she craves for; it is home for her, it is peace for her.
Silently, she crawls to it like a baby; yes, she is smiling her eyes are full of hope.
The burns are too much but she does not want to stop, it is like a magnet pulling her.
‘Please, please do not leave me, I want to be young again and at peace,’ she is desperate.
Why is she nervous? Why is she pleading? Can the flame hear? Is this too much for her?
Suddenly the flame approaches her, we are scared, but she’s happy, she tries to a standstill.
She embraces it, it fully engulfs her, it consumes her, this is home for her.
The whispers die; it is Calm.