Got a Light?
Against the flint I flick the gray steel wheel
Then sparks fly out and on the wick they land.
Before my eyes a light dances with zeal.
The flame erupts so cleanly in my hand.
The tongue of fire then snorts and stands up tall.
Heat radiates, warming up my face.
I stare down at the flame. I am enthralled,
In wonder that combustion has such grace.
In the darkness fire is the only light.
It casts out Satan's dark to where it fades.
It burns so self-assured, showing its might
The amazing power of the flame I made.
Then, as if possessed, I flick my wrist.
The Zippo's closed. The flame does not exist.