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Where's the Fire
by Lyss CopelandAnother fire drill spent freezing in our pajamas.
Whispers: I wonder if theres a real fire?
Rumors: Do you think someone was smoking pot?
They float in the cold air, spreading like the flames that whisper malice in my ears.
I stand there, bored.
I shout out, Oh, God! I can see flames in the windows!
Screams, cries, and then laughter can be heard:
That wasnt funny.
I know its not funny.
The fact that were standing here, gossiping in coldness, stuck in a routine, is the real joke.
Sorry that I keep looking for sparks. 11/21/2008
Author's Note: 1/22/09 - Yay! A slightly edited version of "Where's the Fire?" for all to enjoy. :)
Posted on 11/21/2008
Copyright © 2025 Lyss Copeland
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 11/22/08 at 04:30 AM I take it you're laughing on the inside. Brilliant work. |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 11/23/08 at 02:43 AM Sometimes the only way to handle a ridiculous situation is to ridicule it in some funny way.
You've described that way with good humor. |
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