Metaphor

72 11 5
                                    

I watch the dying of the flame as the embers race to escape it. I watch as it dies out, all that was once lit.

The heat slowly fading, the cold now creeps in.
I wonder if the fire misses the ember like a long lost friend?

The sad poet.
The dying flame.

All sit alone together,
feeling emotions of which,
are the same.

🤔

Weight of WordsWhere stories live. Discover now