It all starts. A little “spark”
I suppose. Never knowing
If the fire will burn out,
Or continue raging on.

I’m nervous you see.
I desperately desire to experience such
A crackling fire to warm the
Tender palms and make its way up to my heart.

No diminutive
Flame lit candle to broaden a
Saccharine aroma for an hour or two.
I long for a flaring fire that rages on.

A burn bound to be,
But bound to ensure warmth
surrounded by flames. Am I willing
To take such a risk
To be smothered by smoke? –Perhaps.

Sometimes wishing for the flames in my fireplace
On a chilly winter’s night.
A camp fire perhaps? The kind
To sing around and star gaze.

As time progresses
I anticipate seeing a flame still
Under charcoaled logs.
No longer a raging red, but rampant blue.