busted rear view

Believe me, the fire will be an
Unusually refreshing change after the
Short tortures that cold can bring
That reminds you how the world can be
Eventually we all accept our own pain
Delicate flames lightly licking
Red reflections on the edge of night
Equal to the unseen eyes of observing
Around the rim of your consciousness
Roasting these sugars to black on the end of
Very thin sticks picked out for the occasion
Insistent cold winning the battle
Except we have each other to
Wait until the last minute before sleep

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About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
This entry was posted in poem, poems, poetry, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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