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Fire under footfall.Fire over skies.
Fire on a matchstick.Fire in my eyes.
Fire holding hunger.Fire seeking wood.
Fire hiding danger.Fire feeling good.
I like to stay upand listenwhen big people talkingjumbie stories
I does feelso tingly and excitedinside me
A little bit of rice,a little bit of pea,on my platefor my tea.
A little bit of jam,a little bit of toast,in the morningswhen I love it most.
The living room remembers Gran dancing to Count Bessie.The kitchen can still hear my aunts fighting on Christmas Day.The hall is worried about the loose banister.
My love is like a well-read bookwhich makes me smile each time I look.It shouts and whispers, roars and singsit grounds me and it gives me wings.