Be careful for whom you
would carry a tortch
The heat may leave your fingers
blackened and scortched
Be wary when leaving a
Lantern or candle
In windows for which
They are too hot to handle
YOU ARE READING
painted poet
PoetryWhat memories give me grief or gratitude, Tempts my firey attitude, comes to my mind In the wee hours of night Or of the mornings first blinking light, The second edition to my collection of fragments, pulled together like bits of stained glass, ...
<3
Be careful for whom you
would carry a tortch
The heat may leave your fingers
blackened and scortched
Be wary when leaving a
Lantern or candle
In windows for which
They are too hot to handle
