The glass was heated 'round the flame.
The lamp neither at fault nor blame.
The breeze it blew and winnowed still.
It swirled around the window sill.

The heat it trapped inside the glass.
Captured, sure, but hardly still.
The girl she came and blew me away.
Her laughter sparking and snorting squeal.

We sat in a storm without light but flame.
Quoting poetry without knowing a name.
Am I to be relegated to a fate all the same.
To be quoted but not noted as the whom that came.