When the dance saloon lit fire

One day the waltzing end
Of the street lit fire
And she knew as if she could
And ran. 

Besides, it was not only fire 
It was memories and love
It was sweat and dance 
Consumed in flames. 

She stood by ashes
And cracking messes 
And lovely curtains burned 

It was so random
A day in June
The smell of ruins

Wind flew by her party shoes
Her sleeping gown
With blue laces, all alone

She turned her back
And tears were wet
On her cheek, but still weak
To feed the starving flames.


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