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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.
From Things You Find in a Poet's Beard by A.F. Harrold
It tastes of high clouds
of crisp cold
I've just invented a flying machine;It's silver and gold and three shades of green.
Forest could keep secretsForest could keep secrets
I have your smile
when I look in the mirror I see you
I have your laugh
So when I chuckle I hear you
I have your humour
when I’m sharing jokes I owe it to you
Summer is the best time
so let me start right here
It’s my favourite season
I wish it could last all year
The sun feels real near
and it can get so hot
Spread your arms wide and smile
find your style.
on the pitch, lightning faSt,
dribble, fake, then make a dash
player tries tO steal the ball
Billy chased me round the playgroundwith hands full of fists
Billy yelled at me across the football pitchwith a mouth full of stings.
I give you clean air
You give me poisonous gas.
I give you mountains
You give me quarries.
I give you pure snow
You give me acid rain.