Refined
Glowing, golden orb is lost,
plunged into a molten fire.
reduced to streaks of red and dross,
victim of the night’s swift ire:
refined, but not without a cost.
—————
for the Bite Size Poem no.47 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Line Gauthier
Written on 06/19/2022
Copyright © Jeff Kyser | Year Posted 2022
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