The pile was gone, cleared away,
Was a year ago, very day.
Machines of smoky steel might,
Came and was gone before night.

A young boy watched flowing tears.

Small pieces of the burn stone,
Scorched and scattered bits of home,
That had stood strong many years,
In spite of hope verses fears.

A young man’s eyes flowing tears.

Ice coated the world in cold,
Warmed by memories now old.
The wait with hope forever,
Dreams to be fulfilled never.