Dearth of a Latibule

The skies were a bit too yellow

And the seas, a bit more blue

Some of it was false,

While the rest of it was true

It was summer; the mercury went north

it was warm, with the calendar showing June the fourth

The entire town was engulfed in a blanket of smoke

Those disillusioned by it could do nothing, but hope

The town cried as it crumbled against the blaze

Those hiding behind curtains could nothing, but gaze

The town went down like an effigy of wax

As the rage intensified, the leafs turned black

Sweat on their palm, sweat on their chin

the degree of hope was weak, with chances quite thin

As the mercuries jumped, hopes got covered in a shroud

All was still and silent, with our minds thundering aloud

Soon enough, it was clear

That nothing could be done

People had nowhere to hide, and nowhere to run

Everything got dissolved

And what was left was the sun...