Pyros…

My folks are quite weird,
Crazy for the wild.
We’re always after danger,
Never anything mild.

We’ve a knack for fire,
And for watching flames dance.
We can light almost anything,
Given half a chance.

My pops once lit a tree,
Seventy feet of wood encased in sap.
It went up in smoke,
Fish and Game yelled’ “CRAP!”

Even while hunting,
Dad’ll light a small fire.
I’ll admit I enjoy it,
As the flame dance even higher.

So, my folks are pyros.
Its passed from one gen to the next.
My grandpa, dad, then me,
Without it, we’d be vexed.

– By TheCountryGirrl See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11419125-Pyros…-by-TheCountryGirrl#sthash.8hoFGnPT.dpuf

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