If on this cool September night,
a dream creates a perfect view
Then I’ll prepare within its sight,
to spend this autumn eve with you

from the pile of ashes
the figure arose
in a Phoenix
like pose

his wings were blackened
by the fire's torch
the feathers bore the marks
of an inferno's scorch

forever he'd wear
the burn's scarring
as a reminder
of his marring

from the pile of ashes
the figure arose
in a Phoenix
like pose

on spread wings
in the heavens
he again soars
ascending above
the flame's
raging roars

his being flying free
a mythical flight
rising to cast off
the searing's blight

from the pile of ashes
the figure arose
in a Phoenix
like pose

Alone in the room,
my hands are stained
with poetry.