Dancing fire, rhythmic orange and yellow flames
rising and falling in waves, licking chilly September night air
Crackling voices, speaking glowing light in shrouded darkness
The alluring tango, igniting promiscuous desire
flirting with wild, deep-seated passions
once touched by fire, causing us to burn out of control
Ghost white smoke on flame fingertips, reaching
high above, into another world
untouched, throbbing, beckoning
inaccessible, like our passion
before the flames set it ablaze
consuming all we held
Then the dancing stops
Passion runs its course
Light surrenders to the silence
We lie motionless
as the fire pit grows deathly cold
and the inferno falls fast alseep in darkness’ waiting arms
Poetic Alchemist 
Aurora: Thanks so much. I agree with you, and in more than one way it will be. Call it magical, because that is what it will be.
Nick: Thanks. I appreciate your comments, and glad you enjoyed this poem.
It’s going to be a great September! 🙂
Brooding, dark, almost gothic repose. Very powerful, densely packed and wonderful.
Floots: Thanks. Metafire indeed. How funny. We had a great fire last night…
Dan: Thanks. Need you ask, fireman Dan? 🙂
or a metafire 🙂
nicely don don
and most timely
i lit a fire last night – a sure sign that autumn/winter will soon be here
but i love that fire
cheers
Is this a metaphor?