"Come closer," he called
from the fire's edge
as I clung to my postern
in the sheltering hedge.
"Come," he beckoned.
"Closer," he teased,
smoke disguising his subtle deceipt.
I was standing far away
so even on tiptoe
I couldn't see.
It was the safest place to be.
Then slowly, closer and closer
I crept
until I could almost feel the heat
of the flames, but not quite.
Feeling sure,
I bent to get a better view,
and with his Judas nudge, I knew
I'd come too far.
Since then I've learned:
the farther away from the fire
I stand,
the less likely I'll get burned.
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