Fire

Years burn holes
into clothes, branding
age-spots into skin,
licking skeletal tinder.
Even minds catch
slowly, reduced to less
than air. All of us
eaten by flames
invisible to the naked eye
that melts
faster than butter
at the crematorium.
Then beyond us, time
ignites the horizon,
sky charred to ever-
lasting ash, sparks
of our expired passions
frozen into stars.

By Cyril Wong

QLRS Vol. 9 No. 2 Apr 2010