good bye, red beard.

his chin
covered in roughened, 
red matted fur
is pierced with a flash of 
sharpened blades
they plow through rows and rows of
dried straw, 
burnt and worn
from exposure and time to the elements.
the blades forge a path
shedding light,
welcoming the cold fresh air.
we see form begin to take shape
long clean lines
a jaw, sharp and true
and lips, soft and eager to 
breathe again without the 
slightest hindrance.
there lies a clean path
beard now trimmed
and and a 
most handsome face emerges.
two blue sapphires 
sparkling
floating above the fray
we no longer see flames licking 
his face,
but a crisp, 
flesh colored stone
softened along 
the edges.