Poetry

Fire Dance

Around the corner I spot your flames,

little blue flickers, seeming tamed.

But should a whisper, snide and bold

from the tower whence they hold

the power to make all decisions

interfere with your mission

or threaten the one you hold dear,

I know you will instill them with mortal fear.

Your flames will rise up, acrid, molten

and in an instant completely engulf them.

I worry, not for their well being,

but its effect on you I’m seeing.

This radioactive surge you have

may drain you with its grab

and all I can do is hold out my hand,

and hope, hope

you’ll rise up, scar-less, from the spent ground.