The flames dance in the spaces
The wind hums a rhythm for the flames to dance to
I watch, silent observer
Discreet stalker
Twisted molestor
I encourage their tryst with my eyes
And my heart
It seems so perfect
This natural moment
This undefinable experience
All this from watching logs burn in the fireplace
2 comments:
Imperfect poetry...
Yeah, right.
Work harder on stuff like this and make it perfecter. You're getting there, if you're not already there.
Kea o leboha, Ntate Masilo. Went away for the weekend with the missus and was booked into a place with a lovely log fire - perfect for winter - and was trying to figure out what to write between world cup games. Glad it had an impact.
Have been lazy but starting to work through the stuff I have posted here to see what can be developed further.
Easy
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