The shade of orange makes me feel so warm…
I know if I touch it
I will be scorned.
So I sit and watch the movie it makes
And a moment of rage.
Reaching up with a tiny twist
Then Rolling out into the shape of a fist.
The wind gusts down from above
But all it does is give it a shove.
It’s nearly asleep
I think it’s looking rather sheep.
Throw on the dry blocks of ready wood
My Nannies fireplace was always good.