Hills rolling gently.
An ocean of grass
blades waving gently,
beckoning the child
From there they could hardly see the colors.
The browns and blacks of the charred landscape.
The matted patches where everything was disintegrated.
From there they could hardly see the house.
They could hardly remember that fearlessness they felt,
That tight feeling
In my chest
That was everything.
The way your lashes fell upon your cheeks,
Unable to hold the pain back.
I remember that day clearer than anything.
That day when you ran from me,