You reached and tears burned your chilled cheeks
and like the sleet on windows streak
until they fall from chin to breast
will burn again like fire's lick;
like pain of rose's thorns that prick
the flame of love's eternal quest.
Where does the fire end at last
and at its best left unsurpassed ?
Exhausted souls lie calm - at rest.
Craig Cornish June 14, 2014
For Nette Onclaud's Light a Flame
Nove Otto form