Flames that licked upon our tender fingers,
Blisters on the skin of our youthful hands,
The grim taste of ash is all that lingers
As we stumble around these foreign lands.

Faces once well known are now such strangers.
Haunted by wishes now dissipated,
Hunting for safety among dangers,
Searching for what's long evaporated.

Expectations crumbling to such sorrow
And disappointment littered all around.
The longing for a better tomorrow
Sprinkled like seedlings on infertile ground.

We shield our eyes upon finding treasure.
Time takes it's toll, but not beyond measure.