A Poem
It is strange what the peculiar inner workings of the brain stirs to memory.
How does the smell of a far off fire
Bring to your mind's eye the images of childhood
When you were in the woods
Searching for firewood
But you got lost for a moment
The dark woods became a coffin
Yet the light of the fire gave you hope
The light gave direction
A way to return home?
posted by Hugh @ 5:17 PM
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