Zayne Abdullaeva

moonlight

George Brizzell

As we sit around the bright orange flame 

It shimmers                and dances               moonlight.

          And shakes                  under the         

 

You look around at all your friends and family,

And they’re laughing and you laugh 

At the conversation going around.

 

But your attention returns to the crackling, chard logs

That sits glowing red at the bottom of the ring.

They fascinate you.

How their colors change from

Brown, to black, to white, to red, 

Then…POOF…gone. 

 

The dancing flame dwindles down

Until she dances no more.

When all the logs are gone,

You say farewell, until tomorrow. 

As the hot coals cool, you walk home

And can’t wait to do it again tomorrow. 

When the flame will dance again,

Under the moonlight.

• Category: Photography, Poetry