Poetry, Writing, Written Flammable 04/04/2013 Thom Willis Leave a comment A fire creeps Across a land frozen Inside and out It chars and blisters Thin skin And offers no warmth. A fire built On the funeral pyres Of our young Kindled by those Hard-nosed And feeling no warmth. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window)Like this:Like Loading... Related Tweet