The coals drink deeply
A bed fueled by oxygen
Dancing with heat and color
And the night leans close
And the fire burns low
The coals sigh and squirm
Easing into their long sleep
With the patience of old age
And then close their eyes
And then dream their dreams
The coals are cold now
Wrapped up in a dirt blanket
Only the memory burns
And there it remains
And there flashes bright
nice!
Thank you!
I bow to your poetry.
Too kind. I’m hoping to have some fun poetry news in the near future. This post was the start of something larger.