Charcoal

I can imagine, tonight
Driving by the burnt down playground,
In the night, rain falling,
The smell of a fire,
Doused by water.
The unique feeling, the taste
As the ash hits the back of my throat.
It is like when I saw the picture,
Flames gouting out, childhood in flames,
That time I could imagine,
The taste of the wood smoke,
Hitting the back of my throat,
Gritty and black, fluming out.
When I saw it, in the gentle light of dusk,
The remains of towers reaching for the sky,
Charred fence, yellow tape.
How sad it was, melted childhood,
Burned to the ground.