Fire with lapping tongue
crackles bright and heating air
we gather round and stare
casting long shadows everywhere.
Fire with lapping tongue
consumes the air we all live on
and with a beauty of its own
destroys the fuel from which it's grown.
Ohh fire with lapping tongue
in your small place, you're so at home.
We all feed you to sustain
your fiercesome freedom that's constrained.
When the night draws to a close
and all are thinking of repose
we leave you to your plight.
Your ambers shine on into night
and in the gentle morning light
your ashes are a sombre sight.
David Taylor
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/speak-gently-2/
