Glow
Sit by the fire, my love,
and let its flare
caress you softly,
soft as the
suggestion of my touch
fluttering gently on your
skin yet slowly
fading, as frail embers
quit their glow
and sputter cold.
My passion shall o'ercome
flame's waning appetite
and keep you warm,
'til stars rescind
their luster to the dawn.
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2015
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