Tuesday nights...

Sitting, laying, overall just sprawled upon the hard wood;
Not that I was confused but wasn't aware that the situation was dire.
Yet, I couldn't fight my gazing at the fire.
The heat caressing the air, back and forth like lovers; 

dancing in a smooth spiral motion, 

the air squeezing; almost smothered.
My affliction seems to be this fireplace; 

as if all my worries are generally misplaced, on the wrong reason. 

Yet beyond reason I can't stop staring at those dancing flames. 

That dancing. 

---------------------------------

The rumba of the heat. 

The salsa of the fire. 

The pirouette of the ash. 

---------------------------------

It makes my heart beat. 

That fire, 

was only dire, 

for my desire,

to watch it dance as I'm sprawled.

Author's Note

Sitting in front of my friends fireplace, and I just get mesmerized by the flames.

Reviews

[∂αʌ<..]

i disagree a bit with Creepy Swine Guy--'coz i would say that as you sat there watching the flames dance in front of your eyes..you could hear nothing for you were simply mesmerized and lost in its beauty!

fascinating poem!

[Creepy Swine Guy]

I like the concept. I would never have thought to write about fire. But what of our sense of hearing? Does the fire not make sound? does it not speak to our ears as well?