Burning coin, poem.

Burning coin.

Through cold clear glass lies a glimpse of the past,
Rocks of all kinds belong safe in their case.
An item stands out amongst items masses.
A coin half sunk into liquid rock lays,
Then images scorch their way through my mind,
Of days long since passed, a time forgotten.
And memories that no one living may find,
More vibrant than any painting or item.

Screaming and crying as all people run,
Rocks glowing scarlet, a hot liquid death.
A small simple coin that glints in the sun
It hits the rock hard and sinks in some depth.
Then the rock hardens, cooling around it,
And now it is kept, a captured moment.