Photo Credit @Claire Fuller
The Things We Lost in the Fire
The firestorm swirled down the mountain of regrets, pausing to devour the last vestige of us. No amount of retardant could stop the advance. All that remained after the battle was ash.
You had used the children as kindling so even they were lost to me, lost to us.
Our sanctuary destroyed, we left the kids adrift in the wake of our transgressions; forever looking for the bits and strands of things that made us a family.
For more Friday Fictioneer’s tales of bits and bobs and flotsam go here.