A Blanket For The Sweating
a spark, to a flame, to a fire
tended for two and a half years.
i stared with wide eyes of a child,
having never seen something so raw,
have never felt something so warm.
i stood close, too close
and sometimes was burned.
but no storm, no rain or wind
was going to conquer that fire!
i would be there, always and forever.
i had no doubt, only fear
that something terrible would happen
if i relaxed, if i changed,
if i took my eye away for one second.
but the natural phenomenon was no longer natural –
its flames ceased dancing,
its pleasant heat faded and fled,
its beauty ripped harshly from the world.
now i’m still standing, just a few feet away,
staring, hoping, dreaming
but shivering cold.
it’s a hard way to learn:
even young love needs oxygen.
