Fire! Fire!

He was scarred as a lobster

seeing steam come from water

He opened every window wide

Hearing the rustling trees

double-park across the gate

Working steady, a work of hate

A dying spark in the little campfire

set fire around him in a ring

He was inside now with no song to sing

x

About Lindsay Craik

Writer & Poet Poetry, plays and short stories
This entry was posted in Flash, Poem and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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