fire – windyhilldesign.org

Fire-rose

When seen
through fog or snow,
fire’s a rose.
It opens soft,
its red spills over.
Where’s the fire?
Nearness shows
the burn in rose.

Child of innocence,
child of passion,
now love unclothed:
This child endures
your wintry lightning,
alive in my arms.

Cheek cupped in the palm of a hand,
your sweetness all around,
your pine honey scent thickening my sleep,
an hour’s like years.