Black pyre smoke,
drifting to the skies,
little flakes of burning wood,
and flesh and blood and lies;

Bright orange flames,
dragging themselves up,
by the skin of their nails,
dying to rise above;

Tossing and turning and swirling,
around,
burning specks of dust!

Screeching and screaming and cracking,
with sound,
bobbing about in lust!

Dancing in the warmth,
till they turn to ash;

And dissipate in the rain.

By: Viraj Belgaonkar