She was beautiful, especially around the campfire,
with ashes in her hair and the smoothing smell of smoke on her, which she wore like a chanel perfume.

She loved lighting the fire,
setting a spark into the woods and watching it grow and dance trough the warm summer night.

I could spent hours, watching the flames
and telling stories of adventures we experience together.

And when the morning comes and the stars are replaced with the rising sun,
when there's no more whiskey left and the last cigarette is burned down,
the fire keeps on burning inside of me.

A fire that was lit by her.

Temporarily removed campfire, nature, and serenity image