A musical strain,
Colorful and devout,
Catches your ear,
Skipping through your eardrum,
Creating ripples of sound
To lap at the shores of your mind.
That familiar scent,
The one that lingers on his old shirt,
The shirt you snuggled up with
And wriggled your nose into in remembrance,
Washes through your nostrils
And wipes your mind clean
Of aught but beautiful memories.
Saved from the disastrous fire,
Crisp at the edges
And bringing to sharp relief
The sunsets you’ve shared,
The holidays you’ve celebrated,
The kisses you’ve bestowed on each other.
Thin trails of smoke curl lazily upwards,
Mingling with almost-forgotten scents,
To caress your face in loving apology.
Flickers of flame reflect off your face
And blur through the tears in your eyes,
The ones that blind you.
A ceiling beam crashes to the floor,
Sparks fly into the air in crazy swirls,
And you finally look up and realize
That your world is coming to an end.
No breath, no fresh air,
Blinded by light and tears,
Your hands curl about the photographs,
Mad grief paralyzes your limbs
And you cannot move.
You close your eyes and wish for death,
For what would life be,
Without your beloved?
Rocking back and forth in your memories
Your ears catch a melodious strain,
Of a trumpet playing the saddest song ever written.
Your breath catches in your throat,
Hoping to hear more of a song
that expresses your true feelings,
A song that can capture more than words ever could.
A finger trails up your spine,
Letting loose a torrent of goosebumps,
And a familiar voice whispers in your ear,
And then ice cold hands scald your skin
Through the heat of the flames
And you are lifted and carried to safety,
And a kiss freezes your skin in place,
A memento for the whole world to see:
Ice-blue lips frozen in a kiss on your cheek,
A blessing and a curse,
Your savior vanishes and no one ever knows why
You survived that fateful fire.