Monday, November 30, 2009

Poem: Love


It smolders.
It flames.
It consumes.
It warms.
It burns.
It begins slowly
or with a lightening flash
unexpected and violent.
It can be fed to a roaring frenzy
white hot and uncontrollable,
or starved slowly of oxygen and fuel
until the last spark pops and dies.
It can be rekindled.
It can be built deliberately.
It can be a force of nature.
It draws us with it's heat,
and the promise of light
in a world that seems
(only seems)
so dark.


The picture was taken in Botetourt County, Va. You can click on it for a larger version.



Shadow said...

tom, i love this wonderful piece... love does not die easily...

Derrick said...

Hi Tom,

Great metaphor - and I remember that photograph, which accompanied perhaps my favourite of your poems.