Each love, when new, burns with a lusty fire;
it feeds on what it finds without regret,
and warms the soul upon a glowing pyre,
not thinking on those things not happened yet.
Wrapped in the arms of amorous delight,
amazed as each discovery unfolds,
two lovers wait, expectant, for the night,
and in the embers nestle ‘gainst the cold.
They fan the flames and wonder in the heat,
providing fuel with each excited breath;
and when at last they lay as one, complete,
their ashes, like the Phoenix, know no death.
Ah, new love, if it lives through this event
Will be a fire whose source is never spent.
02 DEC 2003
for lj user dougs