Now I Can See
A tear
Scratching
Across a rough surface...
From a square
Package
Commonly lit
With pick-up sticks...
One is chosen
To shape the air
Bluish while
In smoky flare...
Crawling down
A ticklish spine
Until burning
At the fingertips...
Too hot to handle
The match is dropped
Shaken off
As the fire extinguishes...
COPY WRITE©2009
poem by Romeo Della Valle
Added by Poetry Lover
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