Nov 2018
The fire
gone
then back again
like a winking eye.
Warming
it was not
burning
it was
he was drawn to it
like a thing of brush;
it was
Different.
A crackle of flames,
a silence
it was
Different.
Voices:
talked about everything
never of nothing
a continual curiosity
a sense of wonder;
it was
Different.
gone
then back again
like a winking eye.
Warming
it was not
burning
it was
he was drawn to it
like a thing of brush;
it was
Different.
A crackle of flames,
a silence
it was
Different.
Voices:
talked about everything
never of nothing
a continual curiosity
a sense of wonder;
it was
Different.
Found this poem recently. If I remember correctly, it was an assignment from middle school to write a found poem about a passage we read in class, though I cannot for the life of me remember the passage.
