any ember would do

the years

sat in chairs

on walls

flat out on the ground

clogging up corners

scrawling on paper

filling up cheap notebooks

staring into space

working out the line

losing jewels gems

scattered in dead spaces

sent to people

surrounded by reams of words

who were always

past caring on paid time

sending them back

more often not

while I waited for the fire to catch

any ember

would do

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