ornate monolith
He watched the fire perform its dance, enthralled and mesmerised.
He wanted the fire to get closer,
he wanted her hands on his skin.
And she did. She granted his wish.
He thought her fire was warmth
when in reality it was just pain.
But at least the pain distracted him
from the cold.
He hated the cold.
So he kept her close and pretended he wasn't burning,
though his skin told another story,
silently singing of the stinging pain.
Still, he stayed.
Because death by her hands
felt like death wrapped in warm sunlight,
and he loved the warmth.
But before he could let go completely, the door opened
and a hand reached in.
He was pulled out before he became another cinder floating in the air.
The fire found a new victim and the sun was setting.
Outside the flames autumn waited quietly, and for the first time
the cold did not feel cruel.
Summer was over,
and he finally felt autumn.
wide crest
lone sigil
serene cedar
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