with ashes blowing in the wind

A car ride.

A long journey, traveling past

old and new cars.

Driving past homes across state lines,

both beautiful and shady.

The excitement of traveling for a tournament

I have been preparing for all season,

builds up inside me,

waiting to burst.

As excitement bubbles inside,

I notice this quaint little house.

It has blue painted boards and a chocolate brown roof

with white window panels above a colorful flower bed.

This house caught my eye,

filling me with

a sense of homeiness,

warming my heart.

As traffic cleared,

and the house was getting smaller and smaller,

disappearing from vision,

I wonder

“When will I see the marvelous little thing again?”

The short answer is;

I never will.

The time it took for me to win the tournament

took the same amount of time for

the flame to spread through the sweet home.

The fire melted off the blue paint from the boards,

disintegrated the chocolate brown roof,

shattered the window panels,

and wilted the flower bed.

The homey feeling gone, and

all that was left was a skeleton.