She saw me hiding behind
the pine trees
Skulking in the shadows
trying not to get caught
I knew she’d be upset
I wandered off behind the shed
and casually stepped to the corner
making myself as small as possible
knowing shed’ be upset
but I persisted
Under cover of night
I suck to the laundry room
oiled down hinges that
would announce my presence and
quietly pushed the door open
In the black room
the secret cloak of darkness
hid my every move
Nervously glancing right, then left
I furiously dug into my pockets
to the depths of my very soul
searching for the elusive matchbook
Hands shaking, I came up with
the book of salvation
In my frenzied haste it slipped
through my trembling fingers and
dropped to the ground
On my knees now,
feeling the damp, cold concrete
stretching…reaching…
They’ve got to be here!
DAMN!
I found them!
Careful. It’s the last match
With my back to the door
hunkered down
hands surrounding the fuse
to protect the fragile spark from
ill winds that blow…
I light up and fully inhale
the beginning
of
the
end
of
me
Poetry
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I once met a man who put out my fire
He led the day early to rise and late nights
No one asked a question
Then I met another man he knew one thing he could just put out my fire
He was a late morning but never a late night
A few questioned
Thereafter in a place of stability I met another man that had learned to stay away from THE FIRE
He could be reached at all times of the day gone by noon right away
No one seemed to see that one
As months went by I met three men who had met three men in midst of the WILDFIRE
One have the tendency to see them all the time
Some people wondered but others did not bother
Oh I see him coming to to to…
Maybe he will give me another rendition of the FIREMAN then