Snarling in my ears
roaring like the flames that leave
Nothing but ashes
and behind that,
beauty
And the cool love of rain
that patters on the roof –
people dancing, feet, bare,
searching the charred clouds
for a glimpse of a twist of stars
in the night in
silence
or the rustle of the leaves in autumn,
darkening with frost – returning to the earth –
the precise color of the crown
you wear.
roaring like the flames that leave
Nothing but ashes
and behind that,
beauty
And the cool love of rain
that patters on the roof –
people dancing, feet, bare,
searching the charred clouds
for a glimpse of a twist of stars
in the night in
silence
or the rustle of the leaves in autumn,
darkening with frost – returning to the earth –
the precise color of the crown
you wear.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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