Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Sitting before you on a cold winter night,
I watch your flame grow and burn brightly.
You twist and you turn, as your heat sinks
deeper into the log you devourer,
sending heat forth upon me.
Watching and listening, I hear the snap
and pop of the burning wood.
A wafting smell of smoke tickles my nose,
a familiar and welcomed scent.
Your flame dances in a show that only
my eyes take in and hold.
You arch and you curve into the
shape of a curl and in that quick moment,
I capture your raw beauty.
Just a flame you say, see for yourself,
can you look away from such a spectacle.
You made me smile and kept me warm,
for that I am forever grateful.