Flame

Love is like making a fire,

you hand drill into dry land

working for what may last to keep

the warmth in your hands.

Love is like burning wood,

hefty branches will remain while

flimsy papers may go astray

from fast pace exchange there

no longer is a sparkling phase.

It is not throwing paper in a pit,

quickly burning away and

staying up late until there is

nothing to say, nothing to ever

exchange.

Love is waiting patiently,

word exchange day-by-day

expressing honest intent

making unknown amends

caressing a heart with

art.

To sit in the quiet while

capturing words flowing

out when minutes to

hours to years to

timeless.

Love is sacrifice,

giving up one's own needs

to sow seeds underneath

Act on a vow "in sickness and

in health" to be there until

the end.