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Mar 2016
Burning night wicking skywards,
Sometimes lost in wisps,
Smoke swirls, whispers, worlds.
A flickering dance,
So much up to the chance breath
Of air through the gathering
Close, ghosts of what is
Left behind or gone before.

Past loves and lies flaming,
Lost to blaming, regret or time.
I forget which.
Transient, tragic, senseless,
Nonsense bickering.
Bundles of chores and joy,
Puffs of years blown by like seeds.

For birth and death, my love,
Of breath and living you
Precious sprite-bright flame.
Fight hard, shine sharp against
The darkness cut.
I treasure your pieces.
Esther Jane Waring
Written by
Esther Jane Waring  PLYMOUTH
(PLYMOUTH)   
270
     Rapunzoll
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