a crimson matchstick
rasps against chequered paper
speaking an ancient language
as a fire flickers to life
licking against beige wood
devouring oxygen which
fuels the warm glow
that the blaze emanates
while the edge of the flame
leaps towards a wilted wick
olive wax frothing and bubbling
as a woodsy scent drifts upwards
and the fumes from the potion
mask the nightmares
which chase down
your dreams.