THE BREWING POT

There’s a pot by the mountain side
Barbarously dark even inside
A darkened city from its looming might
Numbed spirits now a common sight
A mite spark for a silent stove
Few planks or so they shove
Its silent frothing more of a sponge
Day by next slowly they expunge

There’s a pot by the mountain side
Silent terrors brewing inside
A fogged city from its darkened steam
Shrouded mysteries from the misty stream
Young men said they were pulled in
Our benign children just fell in
But the boiling had just began
And the cooks a greedy bunch

There’s a pot by the mountain side
A broken city just beside
Empty homes screamed petrifying horrors
Lone streets soaked with crimson colors
A city with a story to tell
But the dead were only heard in tales
Embers receding slowly to a char
Their fluttering souls ebbing away