The Forest Fires Beamed From Her Eyes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I was told the books were dark green because they were
Born that way
And when they cried they opened that way for their lovers,
Like butterflies smeared into a carpet where the
First time lovers had made a river,
And the softly washed children looked up into the eyes of
Traffic that didn’t mean to go anywhere,
But went just because it was their nature;
And Alma walked that way, holding hands with her mother.
And I held my breath at the window, but I could not go that way
Into another world filled with the brown hues of forest,
Because it was not my nature;
And so I watched the forest fires beamed from her eyes,
And her children walking safely holding her hand through the
Fires,
But I could not go that way because it was not my nature.