Laughing Flame

• Hannah Sinclair, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2015

Ash and dust
Clinquant flakes of gold
Each remind me
Of a disappearing home

Warm orange drips
Forms bubbly stone
This is surely the last
Of the city by Rome

Children all cry
Their poor mothers mutter
Fathers sit helpless
By uneaten supper

But as air closes in
A strange figure smiles
Within cinder and fire
Like this is their prize