The Red Book

I burnt the never ending book,

Red flames of love carressed the skin

An acrid smoke of memories filled the air

Wretched grief poured from deep inside me

Tore out the remaining few of my forlorn dreams

The fire sucked them into a livid, frenzied blaze

Litte things, previously held, vanished

The glowing coals of pages warmed me right through

Putrid smog replaced by the summer breeze

Life, long neglected, has returned. As have I.