Photo by M. Bednar. Prompt from Imaginary gardens with real toads.
The first flame
takes the leaf
the first leaf
and from there
it swings from
twig to twig
wild cat, bright
bird, moving
swiftly, yet
staccato,
bursting out
in unex-
pected spots,
a fever,
epidemic
of heat, raised
temperature,
wild passion.
The second flame
is a candle in a dark
window, waiting:
the quiet light
that calls the
traveller home,
drifts gentle through
the trees, spills
down the garden path,
wraps itself around you
like a warm robe,
a breath of love,
as the door opens.
The third flame calls the bullet.
The third flame
calls
the bullet.
The
third
flame
calls
the
bullet.
Stunning, Sarah!
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three leaves flying high on your imagination
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A triad on passion whose red is engraved in us like fate. Very well done.
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This is sooo beautifully worded, sigh.. ❤️ especially adore these lines; “The second flame is a candle in a dark window, waiting: the quiet light that calls the traveller home, drifts gentle through
the trees, spills down the garden path, wraps itself around you like a warm robe, a breath of love, as the door opens.”❤️
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OMG that last stanza!
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What a dark story you paint… I feel that there is more than winter coming.
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WOW! What a contrast each stanza is. So well executed!
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Thank you! That’s exactly what I was after!
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Goodness what an ending!
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Oh, this is cool!
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Thank you so much!
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