a lighter

It was March. Sunny spells weren’t enough
To allow him take off his copper coat just yet.

His hands were buried deep down his pockets
Fiddling with something. I was wondering

What was that he held on to when there was a spark – 
With a click, the lighter offered us a mesmerizing flame.

‘Do you smoke?’
‘No, never have. It’s just a habit of having it around’

‘Careful. Don’t hurt yourself’. Looking at another 
Shine just above the horizon I thought –

It’s me who may be hurt,
Should 
you 
be a lighter.