Love was once a wild fire, a living flame igniting every touch with the brightness of night
Love was once a wild fire, a living flame igniting every touch with the brightness of night,
We spoke in warmth, in whispered desires, with hearts beating wildly and hands tracing the fire’s path,
But love is not meant to remain a flame, not a spark that burns and flickers always the same,
It softens, deepens, learns to stay—not just in longing, but in the gentle flow of daylight.
It changes in silence, rewrites itself in darkness, a smoldering ember where once was a vivid spark,
It is not less—it is not lost, but tempered by time, by trust, by the price of shared love,
Now love is steadfast, an enduring warmth, woven into laughter, gentle gestures, words,
It’s your hand on my back as I walk by, the gaze that lingers, the silence that lasts endlessly.
It’s the coffee waiting before I wake, a blanket pulled close for the soul’s comfort,
It’s the sound of my name, not urgent, not wild, but spoken with care, with years reconciled and calm,
Desire may fade, but devotion remains, engraved in rhythms, in sweet and soft refrains,
Intimacy changes, but never leaves, trust remains, in hearts well-known.
Love is not less because it burns lower—it is richer, fuller, more certain to grow,
Not the fire of then, but the foundation of now, not the spark, but the glow that remains eternal and warm.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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