The bushes on fire across the wall,
Flames not high; but smoke standing tall;
Was heat on ground or a matchbox stick?
That couldn’t resist, even concrete bricks.
There was no water enough to pour,
And no number in crisis that could amour;
The birds of feather flocked the scene,
As in rooms there was no fresh air to
breathe.
But what if the flames too could in time
reach?
As assemble valuables, was asked to proceed!
When empty boxes were left with an aye,
Alas, the rest were too, to forge an
ally.
When looked at bushes & boxes from
afar,
On either side, no species & no bars!
© Pranav Chaturvedi 2023