Still Fires Burning

The thinness of skin parchments across blue veins and brittle stick bones dreaming of budding branches—it lays loose you've matched my desire with phrases of burning leaves flames—flaring gold, yellow and red rheum fills my once clear eyes but echoed memory guides me through forests of fall descending with feathered down from empty nests dulled and lifeless fodder for fire ungathered leafless— forlorn as stalks of dry corn still, I eye beauty— voice symphonies of words and build bonfires from each passing night