a poetic holiday #2...

The fireplace is dancing bright
with crackling logs of burning light.

And as I stand with back to flame
my legs begin to burn with pain.

But just before it melts my pants
I hop away and start to dance.

Every time my jeans hit skin
I feel I'm fighting with a pin.

The funny thing about this trend
is that I'll repeat it all again.

I can't stop this warped desire
to flirt with flames and play with fire.



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