- Yaira Ebanks

- Jan 19
- 1 min read
Updated: Sep 17
Black as night,
a silent plea,
years of simmering endlessly.
Hiding the fight,
burning fiercely.
Bright with fiery glow,
at last she boils,
overflowed.
Smell her burn,
flames run free.
She must burn,
a tempest forged.
Little black kettle,
let her be.
