Six+Room+Poem+22

= Flames coming to life trying to rip out of place the shadows of the trees and the moon glooming bright like gold piercing through my eyes Crackle crackle its a peaceful night I wonder how much gas my uncle puts in the flames that started as a small little spark the warmth as if the sun was cuddling with us really how much gas did my uncle put in as the sounds of the crickets came closer I still ask how much gas did my uncle put in =