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Aug 2017
The bonfire burns.
Flickering ashes
rise up in black smoke
flying like
little lightning bugs.
My face is flushed
with its radiance.
I am forced forward
like the fire
is a tiny planet
with its own gravity.
I get as close
as my flushed face
will allow.
My hands move around
the aura of heat;
Such a sweet
orange beauty,
it beckons me
while dancing against
the edge of night’s
dark infinity.
Such a sweet heat,
hides in the vaguest
corners of my memory.
Graff1980
Written by
Graff1980  43/M/Springfield Illinois
(43/M/Springfield Illinois)   
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