by Edgar, C. P.
Under the light of my lamp, I pulled the bottle out and using my knife I worked upon opening it. The wax and cork were set finely and it took some labor, but I was able after a moment to release the closure. Up ending the bottle, the scroll came free dry as a winter bone. It was finely made, wooden with detailed scroll points. Unraveling the parchment, I found a prize that I will always cherish and someday pass on. It read as follows,
“She walks amongst the fire
Slowly moving toward her destiny
A heartbeat closer to the ground below
A wisp of breath into the cold blue air
She walks amongst the fire
Searching, crying, reaching about
She longs to lift the curtain of life
Fallen heavy like dead leaves across her path
No glow of hope seen through the maze
Nor fear of death from the smoke’s haze
He set fire to the grounds to smoke her out
Sending the Phoenix to grab hold her hand
Its wings whipping the path clear of debris
Its fearsome cry announcing to the world
He set fire to the grounds out of love for her
She walked amongst the fire
Now she dances in its glow”
***
End