It's night and the fire outside dwindles.
Mud washes through the camp
And the wind carries the few
Remaining embers to the tent.
It howls louder.
Glowing remains catch and grow
Until it smiles and cackles
And warms the room around me.
My bed that I made,
The pillow for my head,
Light and transform
And engulf and laugh
And I drift to sleep in the warmth.
No comments:
Post a Comment