NaPoWriMo, Day 17. Due to the demise of my computer, my muse has been forced to sit silent for this past week. But we’re back!

Today’s prompt:

Write a poem that presents a scene from an unusual point of view.

Matchless

Rrrrtch tssss whooos.
Match strikes to life.
Sulfurous head turns black,
then glows orange-red.
Blue flame encircles the head,
turning yellow as it reaches upward.

Match touches wick.
Wick resists, but then
accepts the flame with a
complaining sizzle and pop.

Flame dances brightly to the
rhythm of an invisible breeze.
Wispy white smoke coils up and away.

There’s warmth in the watching,
shadows chiseled by the light,
danger cloaked in tenuousness.

And then, Pifft!
Match is extinguished, and all that is left
is that copycat flame perched ridiculously
atop a flimsy wick and weaving like a drunk parakeet.

NaPoWriMo, Day 17