Love's Longings

How much of love is longing’s dream A sheltered search to fill a need Peering from beneath the gray of doubt And yet devoid of fear save self A kite-less string attempts to fly Spurred on as scented winds pass by For love is neither string nor kite Nor tinder’s ever-present flame Nor passion’s scathing conflagration She is a touch, this seductress A slightly trembling growl A flash of light through the gray She is a softness etched in stone A hardness willing to be shaped A blending of the needs of now She is an ever-changing dream A feather caressing an anvil A chisel softly shaping a heart For if love is not our longing’s dream Why sleep amid the tinder and flame Whispering “I love yous” to the wind