My smoldering ideas refused to set
The page ablaze, despite my glowing prose.
A choking smoke hung over it, obscuring
My vision, killing any hope of finding
Something combustible amid the words.
And then a gentle breeze blew across them,
A gust that cleared away the haze and fanned
A nascent spark unseen before. Suddenly
The prose erupted, a firestorm of passion.
My readers may need fireman’s gear for this!