Leisurely savoring the amber liquid

as I gaze pensively into the fire.

Crimson, golden and tangerine flames

leap boldly from the aged birch logs.

Their heat is delimited

By the many muted stones.

Worn smooth by the wind and sand,

water and years of age.

The strong border surrounds the flames

holding them hostage within the confines

of the circle.

One continuous ring.

The potent liquid

surges through my veins

like the heat from the fire,

slowing warming.

The colors dancing wildly

struggling to be freed

from the confinement,

hypnotizing those

who sit transfixed

on its deadly beauty.

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poetvg's picture

good work .
The Smiles Lady :*).