Fire
Natalie Crick

Will spill together,
Seethe and flare,

The warmth of your heart,
Crimson streaks
Of sunset, an orchestra,
A painting.
Your eyes are full of misery
When flame devours the log,
Until one dark crack
In the centre

Cools, and the two halves
Fall to cinders,
A dry leaf free in the wind,
A brown field alive with decay.

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