My fire
The humbling feeling and quietness a fire can give one.
By Julia SintonPublished about a year ago • Updated about a year ago • 1 min read
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Photo by Sergei Solo on Unsplash
Do not take my fire from me,
The beauty mesmerizes me.
The angel’s fine hair—
Of pure white-ash,
To powder turned if tried to insnare.
Licking whispers of sunrise flames lash
Against the grains of wooden food.
Do not take my fire from me,
The power enthrals me.
Golds and rubies—warmly glow
From crackled black charcoal.
While from under, blue light rivers flow.
Devoured. SNAP. POP. The fire shows it’s soul.
The hugging heat; fire to lovingly-exude.
Do not take my fire from me,
The smouldering toasted smoke lavishes me.
My fire, my delight,
Hours I could spend in front of your gaze.
My fire, my truest bright,
Hours I could spend feeding your blaze.
My fire, lulling me to a serenity—relaxing my mood.
Do not take my fire from me.
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