Admire the the pyre as higher lick the flames.
A shame, that all that burns, turns to ash, flash in the pan, man and wife girl and boy feel joy.
A sight to behold, rolled grey billowing into light pecked black.
Crackle, step back, the mass of timber shifting and groaning.
Phones cloning the sight to be uploaded that night.
Politely, packed people push past, pursuing prime position, vision impaired.
A moment shared by a few too many.
Any sign of the heat retreating would be a long wait indeed.
The greed of this blaze, a tonne of matter on which to graze.
Embers dance upward and random, terpsichorean tangle, twisting and turning with gay abandon, hand on heart, part of me never wanted to leave that heaving, seething mass of light.
But after a good night it's goodnight.
