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 Smoke Motes  (6 ratings)
by Mark Wells
SMOKE MOTES
I could see the dancing flame,
Eyes of fright behind the windowpane.
Smoke motes vacated the flume,
While more vapor seeped into the room.
I tried to shout to people unaware,
Some looked but carried on without a care.
As every suffocating minute passed,
I could almost feel the heat at last.
I dare not open the door for fear,
I am engulfed in a fiery sphere.
Coughing, choking, constricting air,
My mind a tangle with despair.
If only a smoke alarm had been installed,
Lying on the floor coughing sprawled.
It seems so ironic that I'm coughing,
For not much longer that's where I will be stopping.
Engine noises in my subconscious mind,
Getting fainter as the smoke entwined.
Soon the rasping stops I am still,
Not aware of the fireman's drill.
Hot is replaced by cold, smoke taken away,
Now all that remains is a headstone and bouquet.
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Copyright © 2002 Mark Wells, sffworld.com. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the author. The author has submitted the work in accordance with and in agreement with the following Submission Guidelines
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