deepundergroundpoetry.com
Campfire, alone
last at the campfire
prodding old embers
breathing hope
to see if there's still life
flame tongues rise bright
like memories
asserting their presence
then
receding to a steady glow
the warmth of presence
lingers
Published 18th Aug 2021
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likes 6
reading list entries 3
comments 8
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18th Aug 2021 9:16am
18th Aug 2021 3:54pm
18th Aug 2021 10:33am
Dear K,
Please, pass the marshmallows. And then I’ll tell about a weekend back in ‘86.
Picture it, summer.…he was built like Adonis…
Love the quiet solitude and reflection over those “perfect” moments in memories. But seriously he really was built like a brick sh*t house. Absolutely Gorgeous. He and this poem. H🌷
Please, pass the marshmallows. And then I’ll tell about a weekend back in ‘86.
Picture it, summer.…he was built like Adonis…
Love the quiet solitude and reflection over those “perfect” moments in memories. But seriously he really was built like a brick sh*t house. Absolutely Gorgeous. He and this poem. H🌷
18th Aug 2021 3:57pm
Dear H,
There's nothing quite like a little beer buzz and a waning campfire after everyone else has called it a night. I'd gladly share the scene with you to hear some of your stories, though!
Thanks for joining me,
❤k
There's nothing quite like a little beer buzz and a waning campfire after everyone else has called it a night. I'd gladly share the scene with you to hear some of your stories, though!
Thanks for joining me,
❤k
18th Aug 2021 11:56am
18th Aug 2021 3:59pm
21st Aug 2021 3:26am
21st Aug 2021 4:01am
Thank you, Lj... I'm glad you felt it!
Thanks for the support, I appreciate it.
k
Thanks for the support, I appreciate it.
k
