The flames, not so bright, had lost all their mare.

Brittle seams of smoke and ash drifted in the air.

Passing by the townspeople, happy and unaware.

All, they thought, was fair.

The flames, not so bright, had sifted through the cold.

They were to never come back, is what the children were told.

Lies, lies, lies, wielding power and bold.

The flames, so bright, had begun to burn to blaze.

The smoke, so thick, smothered and covered in haze.

Until finally, the chill stopped.