It flew away.
I stood there, helpless—awfully aware
Of how close I was to the edge of despair.
I watched the wind steal the thread
I had held onto for so long with my bare hands.

My eyes darted across the scene,
The red thread dancing with the wind.
I turned,
Tried to catch it,
Or at least follow its traces
To find what I did wrong—

Only to see the ground crack beneath me.
The once peaceful house,
Burnt to ash.
Windows broken,
Wood burning,
Smoke rising—
Damage that can’t be restored.

Memories escape
With every last breath the house takes,
With every curl of smoke, every scattered trace.

It flew away—
The last bit of hope I had.
All I owned, burnt to ash.
The dreams I had now seem so small.
I lost myself
In the name of saving what I love..
But was it ever mine to hold?
-s