Intermission I

this, too, is temporary

both the warmth and the sting

the fire that burns inside of your 

chest will soon diminished to a 

smoke dancing as an afterthought 

when the rain falls down 

flood will carry all that's left 

and later you won’t even remember 

the storm or the way the lightning 

stroke the tree or the way it revealed 

how the sky was never pitch black 

but a shade closer to indigo 

there’s a beauty in forgetting

the way a child would ask the 

same question multiple times, 

only to be met with the same answer

and he still smile each time, because

it was never about the question, 

it was never about the answer,

it was all about the way a mother

crouch down and look at the

same black eyes, and see both

herself and a stranger, and there might 

not be a universe inside of his eyes 

but there is life enough to make her try

and so she tried, and so she answered

            when the same feeling reach out

    to me again, i will try to greet it

like an old friend, i might not shake

its hand but we will sit together 

and start a bonfire and talk about 

all that has changed while it’s gone

about me who has learned how to build

a fort, about me who has learned how

to keep fire burning when it’s cold, about

me knowing when to let the fire die, about 

me waiting for a storm waiting for thunder 

waiting for flood waiting and waiting and

waiting until i forget how the last one went

and we can ask the same question again

Reviews

[William Michael Reeves]

There you go with the metaphors again. I like the end . Made me think about how we have to be perceptive in interactions tending the fire in different ways then letting it die when it needs to. I like your writing
Bill

[K Ambing]

thank you!

[William Michael Reeves]

I did write this one. Let me go back and check on that other one.