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After the tears, the promises-to-never,
we stoke the cheminea
with bundles of oak, slide shut the safety grate
and sit, hand in hand,
under a star-crossed sky.
How I envy these flames –
their brilliance when they burn,
their hunger,
their confidence when leaping
from one world into another.
(Silver Wyvern prize, Poetry on the Lake International Competition 2016)
Copyright © Sharon Black 2017
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