Strike a match in the dark,
Watch your childhood spark to life.
In a momentary flicker of the past
Relive the scent of bonfire nights;
Where sulphur rockets are heaven bound,
And the orange glow of fire lit faces
Come congoured from the dark of time.
But burns short the magic in that light,
It dwindles fast like youth itself,
Each memory blown away like smoke.
But for just one moment that magic shone
And in those seconds a child came home.

Tom Lefort 2024

The door opens to world beyond
Say one final goodbye
We wish our time lasted longer
Your turn to be lifted into the sky
Always aware you were an angel
Now you have finally got wings to fly

(this one is about a piece of cloth)

The said attire is not common wear
no suit and tie or gown
needing no further introductions
or additional instructions

Its layers are abstruse

It is of certain quality of tension
resembling clumsy bodies
trying to meet and greet each other  
talk about belonging to someone  

Reserved and refined
restricted they cannot rewind

Ornamental is what they are
And you
         you are judgmental 

Ready to look at the attire again?

One layer got lit by a precedent match
which led to an arson
you could not even start that
with the fire you drew up your leg

Everyone is promised to someone
who lives in another country,
and will break their heart
and turn them into a pillar of salt
for looking back to the tragedy

Forever drawn too impulsively to those
Daria is not supposed to look at
She touches them as often as possible
Only few times she's been able stop  

Those times retain a repetitive pulse,
same in its essence but,
alternating on the patters and pace

I can see you are listening to me right now,
I  should probably want that

Listening is a beautiful thing,
a blessing in disguise and
acting on the details of your acoustic research 
is a physical translation of affection

Tell me that you are not unable to translate

I at least need to feel you again
Laugh at you even though our situation is dead serious

I scrutinize the piece of cloth for any signs of damage
You see I wouldn't want it to
get ripped off anytime soon

Although I'd gladly tear off
the rest of your clothes next time I see you

Que Sera, Sera, Whatever will be

We are what we eat, what we absorb, what we take in,
this is mine,
I taste and find, mmmm, worth a chew, slow said
the voice,
of the caterpillar,
of course,
smoke rings,
from the smoke stack
on a D-9 Cat, stuck in the mud,
since November,
till summertime,

lowland realization, land too flat, don't drain.

I jes' set'n'look at that,
Chrome Yeller Caterpillar, worth more than I made,
in ten years after the army,

and I laugh, at how I ain't bound to fret,
or fuss,
no nonsense was ever actually more than literaturely true.

you remind me of matches.
the matches that dont just kiss.
the matches that crave for friction.
we crash ceaselessly
and burn on each other's skins.
we turn into ashes.
and do it all over again.
you remind me of matches.
and how it feels to be something alive.

web of lies to cover your web of desires
kept me in the dark away from the hearth of the fire
I gave you my heart and you threw it into the fire
blew our chances like a match, kept me as an option
So I let it rain hellfire and watched your towers fall
my pride made me destructive
I found solace in the destruction
you played me like a record but I am onto the next track
you sound like a broken record, need to sit with the lack
caught in the crossfire, I did everything right
but you manipulate me out of spite
want to have all the options, both pieces of cake
I cannot wait for you to meet the same fate.