There she stood two feet tall,
Once an imposing edifice burnt to the ground.
Long dark locks and a blackened frock,
Held her ragged doll one soulful eye and a smock.
Two footprints in the ash that cloaked everything,
I thought I heard her sing, it might be the sad song of my heart.
She walked towards that hearth,
All that she knew was forever lost.
There he stood two feet tall,
A burning hut and a body in a pool of blood.
Mother. Get up. But his screams were unheard,
He held her finger in his hand and asked her to take him home.
People everywhere running for cover,
He stood on the street beside his mother.
It was a song of horrors untold,
Someone pushed him to the ground.
It was a blur of people, orange white blue,
I ought to hear their voices thought I,
As quiet as midnight on a moor.
Down that garden path she walked.
I saw all but the tears sliding down her cheeks.
She bent down and picked something up,
One tiny hand held a locket of gold, the other held a doll ragged and old.
I watched her as she stood up.
And there she stood two feet tall.
He pulled himself up muddy and bruised,
All of a sudden everything lit up,
Just as it appeared the light was gone.
But there was no one standing two feet tall.