The rose beside the water tank was the only thing left standing.
First sheltered and then drenched as the tank collapsed around it.
Its fiery-red petals screaming against the ashen ground.
I remember when we planted it.
Our hands touched on the soil and you said “Our new life starts now”.
But now it’s gone.
The house, the garden,
Just smokey memories
And a single red rose.
Written after the Black Saturday bushfires.
© Copyright A Jack 2009