hard box of kittens one


as the flames

lick against

the slowly

blackening rock

I can hear it

roaring it’s rage

at the silent river

it’s colors ever

mixing into a bright

array of burning flowers

the colors are orange

like a box of tabby kittens

yellow like the sun

and red like

blood that gushes

from a open wound

heat burns the hand

that would touch

a bird glides by

on an invisible

highway of air

unaware of what

is taking place

soon a bucket

of water drawn

from the river

is poured onto

the fire there

is a hiss and

then nothing



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