Ablazing.

Sometimes, we wander through this life, waiting for that spark of life that so many wax lyrical about to ignite. But you end up a damp squib and nothing can strike a smile. That touch that grabs something that's so basically incendiary within you dies away.

And then, then there was you. Flint on dry grass; we exploded together. Just sticks on the bonfire. And there was terrifying moments too. Raging against everything when time wasn't correct and all things not in their place. But a damp squib like me can control a blaze;

Or so it seems.