Saturday, August 10, 2013

It is you

July 13, 1982

It isn’t the green leaves
Flapping on the brown bank ridge
Or the cold or the vivid
Blue sky outlined
In white fluff,
It is you,
The fire flicks
Its orange lips
And I sit silent
A gray haze
Bubbling inside me
As I wait for you
From time to time I think
I see your blonde hair
Floating among
The tree trunks
Your face highlighted
By lantern or flashlight
Along the twilight path
But it isn’t you.
You sit beside
A furious red fire
At some far camp site
A pink face calm
In the external haze of smoke
Full of light and laughter
You, a yellow glow
Among the flames
I am orange embers dying
Blue sparks strolling
To reignite,
Hoping to burst again
Into vivid flame
Knowing in my heart
Old flames rarely do
My fire smothered
In smoke
From feeding it
Too much green wood
or wet brown bark
My smoke staining
The purity of the blue sky
My fire needing more than
Desperation to thrive
It needs you

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