The Spark of Life

When life ends in its infancy, what is left to show it was there?

A life needlessly extinguished

A spark, never more than a flicker

Not bright enough to light the day

Quickly snuffed between two fingertips

Lacking residual heat to prove it was a flame

The only memory wisping away

As the smoke rises, invisible ashes blow away

Author: Arsenio Franklin

Writer & depressed house husband.

2 thoughts on “The Spark of Life”

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