Monday, January 1, 2018

Untitled #975

Slowly, I feel the fire burn down
In its heart, as small embers rattle round
Waiting for its proper time
The air, the wind, the fire
Searching through ash without tire
Who cares about a little grime

Suddenly a catch, a spark
A flame that is no longer dark
Flashing across now burning ground
Trapped by logs of timber steady
Placed there easily, conspicuous, and ready
The love encircled the flames all around

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