Blisters Poem by Sandra Martyres

The house went up in flames
It was around midnight when
An elderly gentleman suffering
From frequent bouts of insomnia
Noticed tongues of fire billowing
Out of the home across the road
The orange flames stood out in sharp
Contrast to the black skies of the night
He shouted loudly and awakened
The neigbours who streamed out
All confused in their night clothes

They stared in fear at the raging fire
But no one dared to venture near
The buring home except the old man
He mumbled that he had lived his life
To the fullest and he could easily afford
To take a chance and help the distressed
Then covering his face and braving the smoke
He entered the place to see if he could save
Any of the poor inmates trapped inside
But no sooner he entered he had to rush out
Choking violently with his sleeves on fire

Everyone's attention quickly shifted to him
People began spraying him with cold water
Using a garden hose despite his loud protests
Then suddenly out of nowhere the voice
Of a young man could be heard as he said
' All you good people please stay away
Tis the work of my old Grandpa, he is
Determined to encash his own Insurance
Before my Ma and Pa get to it - don't worry
He is very safe and the house is empty'
So saying the boy vanished unseen-

And as for the old man
All his acts of kindness left him with -
Were the blisters on his burned fingers