My apologies

Who are you, who were we?

My sincerest apologies be for I am not what I seem. My face and tongue shifting with the winds and flame, and my fuel a wicked game.

What sets inside my chest is a chunk of ice and little is left of the red.

The skin hangs as a puppets smock and the skeleton hollow from all the weather. Just dangling on a stick and dancing for a smile.

My apologies sweet one for nothing so wonderous as your beautiful eyes looking back at me and yet I must flee, abandon this nest for it is scaring me.

Reviews

[Najam Us Saher]

I liked the honest tone of this poem.