Fire on the Lake

Rose petals fall among

tumbleweeds of dust blowing

into crevices, splitting

my imagination.

I saw fire on the lake flaring,

flat stones skimming

the reflections of flame dissolving

then refocusing.

I want to rhyme, she said.

I want to rhyme with dust,

not roses.

I reach for a bottle

of something but it’s empty,

consumed the night I saw

fire on the lake.

Seth Haines has a writing prompt Thursday – two different videos of the same song. Technically, we’re supposed to write something and submit it to Seth, but I decided to go ahead and post the poem I wrote here.