by mandaceehb

i am a match aflame

falling through the distinct darkness

imminently struck out by the winter winds and biting cold

it is in a most painful Tableau when the glowing spark dies

slowly and abruptly

smoke rises and the tendrils drift

through unfeeling particles as a charred smell injects into the

crystallised atmosphere

but in time these burnt out matches

won’t matter

suppressed by layers upon layers of falling snow in a dozen bitter winters

and even the cold will eventually be a better preservative of its relics than our

fallible human memory