Free as the forest is
Free as wood seems to be
It is a ware I sweat for
And now here is fire
Campfire though not
Mine is fire in a grate
In a commercial fireplace
Here it is spitting
Here is my fire blazing
Dry wood in inching death
Fire has caught hold
Come one come all
Toast your icy skins
You are caught in icebox
Come one, come all
Fire has caught hold
A weird ware mine is
Precedence though it has
If service provider can sell the sun
Is no offence to sell my flaring fire
Fire to comfort all chilly chins
Fire for the frozen ears
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem