Mmm, there's nothing like Fire.
The irreversible
"I"ll not see you again,..."
Smoke doesn't ask.

Not my graduation,
Not a Moon landing,
Not a president:
Cuttin' and running.

There's not a 
Tonka Truck made,
Or a Lego square formed,
That can't be dirt...or smoke.

Prepared are you for being Old?
For being the guy:
Throws away the goblet--
(When they were young,
And I didn't have to be).

Maybe if...
One more picture,
Someone had taken.
Or if you'd had
Just one more Friend.

No One thinks when it's now:
"Sit down; you're not right,
You're not you."

When you are you,
When you are you,
At the edge of speaking thus,
Walking too,
Trapped inside a mumbling mouth's truth,
Like a deaf one's Dance.
A tumbler away from greatness.
Or a tumbler away from grace.

Not me.
I gave up.
I took a tumbler too much,
I took the Teacher's Key.
I'm not wrong, nor right.

I just see to the fire.
Erase what I want:
The people before me...
Who packed what they wanted;
Nary a shrug now.
Just the prattle of broken glass...
And folded brass.

Me?
I leave the matches,
So people after,
Can be anything they want,
Anything I hope,
But like me.

rbm