Burning Stories

A warm spring night under the skyscrapers I stand under a blossoming tree Each flower burning and sparkling in orange light As a street lamp burns From within its tangled branches. The beautiful sight takes me back to Nashville last spring, And you - shimmering under a blossom tree too. You, me, and a friend, How I wished then that you could be mine, The music of your spirit still ringing in my ears, The music of your pre...

The winding vines tighten around the heart fluttering, bird-like and fit to burst. Heady hours flicker like Kodachrome through the projector in my head. Over and over the film slides, sticking on those little moments, shared smiles, discreet glances, the ponderings of a mad man over the weight of the mug, the value of words, and a warm touch. Intricacies burn holes into my mind the color of your eyes, the chilling space i...

The flick of a match The start of a fire Watching the burning As the flames climb higher Dancing and shinning Growing bolder with time The light of it hypnotizes These eyes of mine Over and over the burning is done To help cleanse my heart Till the trunk is done

“Tony, there’s a fire!” Scout yelled as loud as he could. He could see the smoke rising from the streets of Paris, a glittering mirage of smoky auras that clouded his view. “Oui, I am coming!” Tony screamed. Scout pulled on his hat. This looked like a massive fire. Even bigger than the one he’d put out in London once. That London fire, well, nobody could smoke like the British, and neither could their houses. He could hav...