Go here for details and the rules of the Velvet Verbosity 100 Word Challenge. The topic for this round is: 

FIRE

Within your colors I can dream

And see those things undreamt,

You pull me into places new

To places I’ve before now went.

Within your heat I feel at home

By your warm, yet teasing touch,

You protect me with your warm embrace

Keeping back the colds’ grey clutch.

Your light reflects within my eyes

And you are all that I can now see,

Your glow descends down deep within

To become at one with me.

So carry me off to distant shores

And to times forgotten long,

Within my hearth, I watch your dance

And hear your sirens song.

The bleak sky darkened, and all about a great melancholy arose,

The dark sky fell unto the earth, and became a murder of crows.

A curtain black was moving slow; its shroud drew ever near,

Its dreary rain consumed all warmth; the land shrank back in fear.

Trees stood empty and unadorned; they’d conceded without a fight,

Against the wind that would precede, the soon to come cold winters might.

The color that had burst upon the land, and painted rich a canvas bloom,

Had bled away into the ground to leave it stark, and grey with gloom.

The damp air had embraced the earth, with a dank smell of decay,

It seemed all life had traveled on, never again to come this way.

With nothing more that they could claim, once again wing and sky did meet,

The murder of crows ascended high, its hunger now replete.   

Too bad.

          Because she ran wonton with nary a care,

      Her mother did warn that she should settle down

      And now naughty Amy will rest in the ground.

 When off he did wander from the groups watchful stares,

    With sweet cakes in hand, he blissfully set out in fun

  And found brand new friends that he could not out run.

After a long drawn out illness she got after fun reckless play,

She spurned mothers’ advice to put on coat, gloves and hat

Too late realizing her wrong; I guess that is just that.

    When they rounded the curb on a cold winter’s day,

       He would not sit down as his father demanded

  It would be a week before they found where he landed.

      Placed for him on the table, within such easy reach

    Too late did his parents, to themselves have to admit

     That they should have considered removing the pit.

   She found on her leg and announced with a screech,

 But her attention drawn elsewhere, made her totally forget

      Attention to detail she wouldn’t live to regret.

    Where he recklessly decided to follow after a bug,

The movers in the meantime, came by and rolled up the mat

Carefully pounding down that middle that they found was too fat.

       Who wanted to give him a special thug’s hug,

     ‘Be Wary of Strangers’ his parents often chided

    If only their words he would have faithfully abided.

     Who was far too distracted to see that big wake,

     She was too busy gazing at her waters reflection

When the wave scooped her up and away from detection.

When he was looking for juice that his thirst could partake,

    He sucked down the liquid and then fell to the floor

      And so thirsty James, would be thirsty no more.

   Because fathers diligence had became far too relaxed,

      For the tool shed was open this dark dismal day

        Cowboys and Indians the children did play.

When he over heard mother state ‘I’m so mad I could spit tacks’,

    What a wonderful thing he thought, to be able to do

  And so a great scheme in his mind did bubble and brew.

     On a day at the beach which had started in glee,

     Her parent’s attention was drawn elsewhere nigh

So they didn’t notice when Maud was waving good-bye.

  (Ennui:  boredom)

There seemed nothing that could help keep his spirits a buoy,

    Nothing held interest and he was always quite board

        And so the great nothing was his final reward.

   When she wanted to play but could not find her ball,

  So she settled for something she found left unguarded

    And she now plays the role of the dearly departed.

    After she entered the door and went down the hall,

     Where much to her humor the last thing she’d see

        Was the tumbling tangle of a grown up melee.

 When chasing a butterfly across the dark brooding shire,

       Not paying attention to his step was a gamble

     And only the butterfly emerged from the bramble.

   Proving that getting to close to the flames can be dire,

  How many times did her parents try to warn her away

  Too late does she see that the flames too, like to play.

     Driving her poor parents quite out of their wits,

  Screaming and yelling for things all through the day

    She asphyxiated herself for not getting her way.

        As like into the fan when the shit truly hits,

  He brought out his fireworks, he had hidden with care

  But when he jiggled the package, he went out with a flare.

   That was meant to capture nothing more than the rain,

Her parents had always thought about covering over that hole

  Just in case their dear daughter near it decided to stroll.

   Despite that for it’s approached he did watchfully strain,

      If only he had thought to look in the other direction

        He could have easily made its arrivals detection.

That she chose to cross despite her older sibling’s advice,

    ‘I know what I’m doing’ she said without reserve

   And now for the winter she’ll be perfectly preserved.

      He kept his room filthy and vermin it did entice,

   ‘Keep your room clean’ his mother constantly said

         ‘Oh go away mother, I’d rather be dead’

When the pillar was struck by a strong evenings wind

Time worn and weakened, it cried out to please be removed

But it was aesthetically handsome, and it’s keeping his parents approved.

   From the bottle she stole, she thought with a grin,

She loved the room spinning and so she continued to pour

                 Z is For Zillah; Not anymore.

  The End

© 2007