The Possibility of Bonfires

Not long ago the fire was just a spark,
the last one, left to linger and fade,
coals slowly turning black in the snowy night,
the last few coals sparkling and sizzling in the dark.

But that is the thing, isn’t it?
As long as there is a spark
the possibilities of bonfires exists,
and you have had your own fed with new wood

more than once. Tempting fate perhaps,
on the lateness of the hour, doubting sometimes
if you had waited a bit too long
before the flames ceased flickering
and reached for the sky.

About this poem

A poem about love. About purpose. About faith. About anything almost lost.

The picture was taken in my backyard in my firepit.

Tom