CW ( / )

Fire

This life that we call our own
Is neither strong nor free;
A flame in the wind of death,
It trembles ceaselessly.

And this all we can do
To use our little light
Before, in the piercing wind,
It flickers into night:

To yield the heat of the flame,
To grudge not, but to give
Whatever we have of strength,
That one more flame may live.

User Rating: 2,6 / 5 ( 14 votes ) 1

Other poems of MACKELLAR (11)

Comments (1)

Beautiful gurl, just beautiful, you've got a way with words that will take you far continue to write and dont give up....... with hopeful wishes for you