red, orange, yellow
fire, hot air, oxygen
a cold, dark forest,
we scarf ourselves with woven blankets as we sing to the strum of the guitar
blowing of the bone-chilling wind sends chills down my pale spine,
the fire then roars louder than the lions and the deep seas
puffy white sugar sweets punctured on metal rods,
we turn it over with our frozen hands, we wait till' it's as gold as the necklace that's wrapped around your supple cream neck,
i hear the ripples of the water stream down the narrow creek,
frogs croak, crickets chirp, trees sway
hours pass, the fire starts to die out just like how the high saturated sunsets fade on hot summer nights
the ashes, the dark dust was once were fresh trees,
now the burnt trees as we now call ashes soar high up in the dark sky,
we look down after gazing at the bright twinkling stars,
more songs we say, more songs,
we play till' fire dies
YOU ARE READING
finding myself
Poetrythese are just poems that i wrote. most of them a non-fiction, and some are fiction:) enjoy!!
