Fire
If not contained
Is like the plague that engulfs everything that’s in its path.
Its bright yellows, blues and greens
Is of passion untold, uneventful
Unrevokably sought after folds of warmth.
Fire contained can be controlled
Beautiful with its bright hues of
Yellows, blues and greens.
The way it lightly dances on and slightly kisses the logs and timber in
The fire place or pit or coal.
Scorches to the touch as if by only given as a
Forbidden treasure to watch over, to keep forever alive, and to never die out
But when that fire dies, that all hope and warmth dies along with it