Abstract poem

It's just an old dustbin

well-filled, well-emptied and then

holes punched in its bottom

a chimney slotted through it's lid

to channel the thick roaring tongues

of flames, sky-high, lighting our eyes.

roasting our cheeks

and his child hand dared to reach out

snatch it open

stuff in more twigs

gasp back while the dragon soars

no more

It is silent now, cold, old

damp, abandoned, forgotten, overgrown