The bitterness goes but the memory lingers -
When once, you've burnt your fingers.


Be Careful With Your Matches.

Golden firework,
Heaven sent:
Then, down to earth,
Blackened, ghostrailing, spent.

We samely started;
Two, soaring, rocketing –
Then, after we parted:
You, pocketing.

09:37, Fri. 03/11/2006.
(From an idea last night.)




Poetry by Mark J. Wood
Read 827 times
Written on 2006-11-03 at 13:08

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A young Cupid who was Amor's aide
found a matchbox. "Let's have fun!" he said
And just for a joke
all the matches he stroke.
Every match that in heaven was made.
2006-11-03


lastromantichero The PoetBay support member heart!
a cool write there
sir welcome rto the bay once more rgds mike
2006-11-03