Sunday, 13 November 2011

Mouth full of summer.

There was a sparkler lying in the shadows, half-destroyed.
Why not...?
I held it against the stove's glowing coil in hopes it would ignite. After a moment, it too glowed with an ember. Hissing and smelling of sulfur, the small red ring travelled down.
But no sparks...
I guess I needed that. Childhood is dead.

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