Fire, Sun, Sadness
Can sunshine be sad? she asks,
poised atop of a pillar of flame and
none the worse for it (amazing what
young people get away with these days).
I check the wreckage around me
and find the sun’s dire reflection
in the dents of twisted metal, spidering
tendrils of steel spread far and wide.
Sunshine is always sad to me, I say
and watch the flames dance around her,
filling me with dread but also envy,
knowing I could never face the fire as does.