A flame lights up through the reflection of his ecru eyes.

He watches as a wooden match burns,
Feeling the incalescence crawl down to his fingers
Before wiping out its life
With a puff of breath.

He strikes another,
Red tip ablaze
Before settling down, yet again
to the journey down to his fingers.

Another puff,
Another life extinguished.
His light brown eyes shimmer
As he lights one more,
This time dropping it to the pallid carpet.

He watches as it catches,
It's esprit growing enthusiastically,
And flames dance about the room
engulfing him in thick smoke.

He was cold before,
But now the house is warm
And his fingertips shiver
As he no longer sees the wooden match, only flames.