| |
|
 |
Kindling
Posted by Douglas, Aug 4, 2008. 1175 views. ID = 1541
This post was written in 3 minutes.
|
 | I've been to far too many campfires this summer, I think.
Quatrain #1: the twig
Quatrain #2: the fire
Quatrain #3: the log
Couplet: invitation |  | This post has been awarded 37 stars by 9 readers. |
A dry and brittle twig, I lie alone
In cold and dark repose upon the mire,
Awaiting here the scrape of match on stone -
The bright and sudden light of flick'ring fire.
See now the match's laughing, cheery bloom -
Erratic dance of rise and swirl and flash -
As joyful flames with searing heat consume
My crumbling bark to powdered, graying ash.
Yet weep for this: a damp and dismal log,
Once proud and tall, now low upon the ground,
Half hidden by the rising mist and fog,
With morning's dew like rainfall all around.
Lie not, dear friend, in cold upon the dew;
Draw near, for I would share my warmth with you.
Copyright 2008 Douglas. All rights reserved. FifteenMinutesOfFiction.com has been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work. For permission to reprint this item, please contact the author.
|
|
|
|
