it was already dark when the cold was catching me
an embrace, a chill of discomfort pricking my nerves distempered so
i gathered some sticks and branches then piled them round in a slope
where edges were jointed stones i stacked before i lit those dried woods ablaze
i felt warm as bonfire scorch caressed against my skin a flashback
boyscouts’ school age camp battling night cold and boredom
rekindling memories from past spilling from the burnt woods
and a few gulp of rum mellowing the night a sober soothe
the woods half gone perished into ashes unto a blur
alluded them friends from boyscout days that long my eyes have lost
from days we tucked ourselves young adventurers on a pineapple field
searching bliss, building bonds out of made-up boyscout quest
the bonfire is tapering, realizing simple joys gone old
i whisk my throat more rum until the fire catches no more wood.
A poem for dVerse.