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
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