Match
I light the match
And watch the flame flicker.
The flame is bright,
A beautiful blue, orange and yellow.
I know that if I touch this flame
I’ll be burned. Perhaps scarred.
But as I stare at this dancing flame
All I can think of is the beauty.
So I reach out with my other hand,
Slowly, tentatively, purposefully.
But then I stop, look at the flame.
And I think about what I’m doing.
Then I drop the match.
I watch the flame, stare at it.
In the back of my mind hoping I don’t get burned.
Copyright © Jennifer Wiatrek | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment