In just three short lines, this haiku-like poem pictures an office going up in flames. The speaker says "we all grew old" there, so the place is less a building than a shared life: years of routine, colleagues aging side by side, days that blurred together. Then comes the sudden turn. The office is "on fire at last."
The phrase "at last" is the key. It hints at a long-held feeling, maybe boredom, frustration, or a quiet wish for something, anything, to break the monotony. The speaker doesn't sound horrified. The tone is dry, almost relieved, though there's sadness underneath, since the fire also swallows the place where so much time was spent.
The mood is wry and bittersweet. Fire usually means destruction, but here it also reads as release, or even a strange kind of recognition that those years burned away long before any flames showed up. The poem leaves us to decide whether that feels like loss or freedom.