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sonnet: the flames

November 22, 2019



the flames, they are cold as they whip my hands.
they do not return to me when i call.
i thought  that i had forced them to stay canned,
but i was wrong for they now burn the hall.

i wish i had listened to my worry
but I did not, i simply rushed ahead.
now to expel the flames i must hurry
or all those that i have loved shall be dead.

with spear and staff in hand i shout my words,
"go, you must leave here and never look back!"
and struggle slowly through the frightened herds.
with my golden spear, through charred wood i hack.

the flames look at me, a glint in their eyes,
“why, daughter, this is a pleasant surprise."


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  • November 22, 2019 - 1:15am (Now Viewing)

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