Stricken

She was the spark that set this heap aflame,
A lightning bolt, quite unexpected, striking
At the base of an accretion of discarded things.
She danced so gaily, fueled by me. I popped
And sizzled in her heat. She left so quickly
As she came; put out by drizzle? I don't
Know, but she returned a few more times
Before she disappeared for good, and left
A heap diminished, scorched. If living,
It is scarred.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 32 times
Written on 2020-02-25 at 12:42

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