deepundergroundpoetry.com
The escape artist and the fire blower
To the left she stood, pondering her way through the maze.
He was to her right, his mouth birthing fire.
Her approach, flawless, every move calculated.
His callous, singed hands left nothing to aspire.
His fondness for fire she could not comprehend.
Her armoured approach always showed him new shores.
She is the yellow Sun that he feeds off.
His blueness she inexplicably adores.
Unable to fit in each other’s shoes, they bathed in each others glory.
Drawing life, strength and inspiration.
As the circus went on, they realised.
They are all they have, they are all they need.
With the love they shared, naught will be lost…even in translation.
He was to her right, his mouth birthing fire.
Her approach, flawless, every move calculated.
His callous, singed hands left nothing to aspire.
His fondness for fire she could not comprehend.
Her armoured approach always showed him new shores.
She is the yellow Sun that he feeds off.
His blueness she inexplicably adores.
Unable to fit in each other’s shoes, they bathed in each others glory.
Drawing life, strength and inspiration.
As the circus went on, they realised.
They are all they have, they are all they need.
With the love they shared, naught will be lost…even in translation.
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