Nostalgia The warm fire crackles as the seasons are changing the smell of fire enters my nose as the leaves are falling paper being torn apart and the brisk air slowly takes them down as they are being thrown
A forest fire, That should be tired. A pure, glistening blaze Begging to be admired.
into the white covered ground through the crisp winter air waiting to go onto the trees again
Burning for a dozen days, A crackling noise plays As the trees tumble., The forest frays. Digging through the rubble, scorched and crumpled, Is a note, saying, “I should’ve been more humble.”
Edges