Match
I light the match
And watch the flame flicker.
The flame is bright,
A beautiful blue, orange and yellow.
I know that if I touch this flame
I’ll be burned. Perhaps scarred.
But as I stare at this dancing flame
All I can think of is the beauty.
So I reach out with my other hand,
Slowly, tentatively, purposefully.
But then I stop, look at the flame.
And I think about what I’m doing.
Then I drop the match.
I watch the flame, stare at it.
In the back of my mind hoping I don’t get burned.
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