I remember the charred air, the odor of the smoke,
The orange glow of the embers beneath the ashen snow,
But I have since replaced my Inferno with my own seeds.
Now the stalks just rustle to and fro in the breeze.
I'll water them and tend to tehm until they've fully grown.
And then, after sparing the fruit--
I'll splash a dif'rent substance in the water's former place
And cause a conflagration to consume this crackling place,
And may the ashes fertilize the newest progeny.
But until then, grow on, be fruitful--
Until you burn again.

This is a work in progress with a working title for class (Beginning Creative Writing of Poetry). The arsonist and gardener personae were selected from a list. Anything you guys can give me would be much appreciated!


Quote by Trowzaa
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