Behind the Tree Row

The black smoke rose

from behind the tree row.

Driving to work

it meant little to me.

Behind the tree row

it was a different story.

A home burned

dreams went up in smoke.

A family watched

as their life was engulfed.

They held each other close

crying together behind the tree row.

The hot air balloon

caught my eye

more than the smoke

from behind the tree row.

I drove to work as planned

my day just beginning

with no concern for those

left behind the tree row.