Her body and mind 

began to fail but her faith

remained to the end 

The fire ripped through

the house so fast but now cars 

pass slowly, gawking 

 No time to mourn since

there's work to be done and little 

space for the dead 

Did you see the world

through rose-tinted glasses, a 

pint glass, or cracked pane? 

More and more and more 

won't fill the chasm but we  

keep trying with more 

There is no we in 

mine but if you don't share it

could be a minefield 

 

Broken machines we

are as we gather dust on

some back shelf, waiting