I burned my finger last night.
Looking at it this morning, rubbing my thumb over the numb blistered tip,
I remember another time I burned my hand.
Maybe 50 years ago now. Then, as last night, the light mesmerized me.
It was so beautiful, I lost my head. I had to touch it.
Last night it was the ignitor of the old oven in my apartment.
Back then it was the lively, popping wand
we called a sparkler. The light was white and yellow and gold and red
and brown and orange and pink at the same time.
Marvelous. Irresistible. Beautiful.
Ouch!
Looking at it this morning, rubbing my thumb over the numb blistered tip,
I remember another time I burned my hand.
Maybe 50 years ago now. Then, as last night, the light mesmerized me.
It was so beautiful, I lost my head. I had to touch it.
Last night it was the ignitor of the old oven in my apartment.
Back then it was the lively, popping wand
we called a sparkler. The light was white and yellow and gold and red
and brown and orange and pink at the same time.
Marvelous. Irresistible. Beautiful.
Ouch!
