Delusion

 

It sounded like 

The tears of a gentle soul,

Unable to hold it in,

Any more. So she howled,

As if to let it all just go.

I looked around everywhere,

To find her. But there was no one

Crying; no one pleading,

No one saying, 'Save me please'.

It was just a false alarm.

I sniffed in the air to catch 

A whiff of destruction,

Maybe a wire collapsing,

And merging with another.

Or the summer heat, 

Causing mischief in its own way.

A tired mind left the iron on,

Only to realise it had really been on,

For way too many hours now.

Or kitchen dramas, when food,

Isn't whisked away from the fire,

Just on time. And now, my my,

There goes our lunch, and 

Our hands are shaking and out of control.

But nothing. The air smelt

Of dead afternoons,

And sleeping libidos.

It was just a false alarm.

I looked downstairs,

Then upstairs, then around,

Anticipating fingers of smoke.

Long, delicate, seducing,

Patterns of nothingness,

Pulling at heart strings,

Slowly, carefully, to untie,

Old knots and caress old wounds.

But there was a cool breeze blowing.

And there was no inferno, no traces 

Of anything close to what I imagined.

No burnt down doors,

No ashen streaked cheeks,

No signs of struggle or strife,

No realisation of death or life.

People went on with their lives.

It was just a false alarm.

It was a child who pressed the button.

Just a curious game, unaware,

Of the havoc it would wreak.

Blissfully ignorant, of the people,

Who got off their sofas and chairs,

Just to discover that 

Their homes would not really burn down.

Nothing much really happened.

I already checked. 

I was the only one there.

It was just a false alarm.