The stench of death is in the air,
The street bloodied, silent, deserted.
Save for a lone dog, standing sentinel,
A mute witness to carnage unabated.
Hours before this had been a bustling place,
A crowded plaza on a bright summer day,
Families, students, lovers and friends,
Reveling in the pleasures of a holiday.
No one knew of the devastation to come,
Of the blood that would rain from the skies,
For the peace was rent apart by an explosion,
Mayhem erupted, as did helpless, dying cries.
The innocent chatter of children fell silent,
Their lives cut short in a moment of terror,
Dolls and toys lay bloodstained, damaged,
Silent symbols of an unspeakable horror.
Shopping bags were scattered all around,
Burnt and blackened, they lay discarded,
Wedding trousseau, an engagement ring,
Meant for a young bride who was now dead.
Among the victims was an elderly couple,
Reliving the early days of their marriage,
Even in death they were holding hands,
Unwitting targets of a gruesome rampage.
Senseless violence claimed hundreds of lives,
Who were in the wrong place at the wrong time,
It is not a particular incident that I refer to,
It is your story which tomorrow could be mine.
The Pensieve 