I’m not Sherlock

damp pages
touched by rain-soaked hands
tell a different story
while the flame flickers
surprised by reflections
unsure
if it survived the storm
and lived to tell a tale

the key witness may fail
but the altered script
tells me
someone was here
to extinguish the flame
uncomfortable
with the light, it sheds
on revealing paragraphs


What Do You See #252

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