Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

A Single Sparkler Expecting fireworks? They're stuck in a bucket.   Awaiting sunshine? There's drizzle expected.   Hoping for magic? Then don't look too closely.   The light show of my love is a single sparkler but watch it's trails as it's getting darker. It's worth the wait. A Late Bonfire He starts his bonfire after the night in the confines of his empty drive. He lays out logs and sets them alight and dark smoke climbs well before five.   He throws broken bricks onto this pyre, then twisted scrap metal and acrid acrylic. Old building material burns in his fire and chokes out the neighbours soon after six.   The last thing he chucks onto this blaze is a letter marked ‘official – cease and desist’. It flickers and blackens in illicit malaise but soon becomes ash and easily dismissed.

  She was cold. I knew a lodge full of smokeless coal and dry kiln logs.   Through blinding snow, we ran on towards smokeless coal and dry kiln logs.   Wrapped in folds, we came upon scents of smokeless coal and dry kiln logs.   Through the door and past hall clocks to the smokeless coal and dry kiln logs.   Brass hearth glowing halo hot with the smokeless coal and dry kiln logs.   She dropped her stole and I coughed full of smokeless coal and dry kiln logs.   We both bowed at this phoenix cot praising smokeless coal and dry kiln logs.   Embracing gold and taking stock of the smokeless coal and dry kiln logs.