A flaming ember darting in the sky,
but look thee nigh. Look thee nigh.
No flame is this dainty creature,
soft and gentle is it in feature.
Crimson wings with black coals,
staring into our own souls.
Hither hovering. Gone the next.
Here one moment. Leaves us vexed.
Dancing to it's wings soft tune,
ere to make the moths all swoon.
Dappled colours amongst the sky,
scarlet flashing up on high.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry and Lamentations
KöltészetSome poems about nature and serene landscapes. I would call it an anthology. However, some poems are Lamentations so therefore, may be quite despairing and upsetting.
