Fire.
Oh how they love to dance in the flowing wind.
Gracefully with every move they make.
How they light our way in the darkness.
Brightening our lives in every way.
When they bring us warmth is the coldest days.
You think the lukewarm presence will never fade away.
Except,
They do.
The wind is too strong for the dance it brings.
The elegance must end some day.
Soon the light will be consumed.
Deepening the things around us.
It will be bleak now.
You will realize the bitterness will constantly come back.
Fire will never stay.
The dance it brings,
The light it bears,
The warmth it carries.
Fire will soon go out,
Leaving a trail of smoke.
Indicating what is no longer rushing to
appear back.
YOU ARE READING
Writing Roses
Poetryнєℓℓσ ℓιттℓє ℓσνєℓιєѕ. єиʝσу яєα∂ιиg тнє ρσємѕ ωιтнιи тнιѕ мιи∂ σf тнє αυтнσя. Updates: Monday - Friday
