The burning out

The burning out

We do not know

What came first

If it was the leaving

Then the burning

Or the burning

Then the leaving

Only the chimney remains

The memory up in flames.

The lone chimney

Near Luraville 

Nothing evokes sadness 

And melancholy more

Than a lone chimney

In a field or beside a lane

Or under a spreading tree

The speculation 

Of who warmed by the hearth

And what came of them

If they had to flee

A late night burning

Or if they just up and

Abandoned 

The embers smoldering.