Lost by Deanne Levitt

To the shelters they came,
In threes, ones and twos.
Some seemed to be lame,
A few had no shoes.

All wore blank gazes,
They'd be, for a while,
in red tape and mazes,
Their possessions a pile

Of cinders, burning embers,
No photographs left,
Of children, family members,
Their lives have been reft.