 |
| source |
Now I know
the brightest light at night
isn't a star
It's the light that dances in your eyes
that sparks the flame within me
Kindling kisses
We burn through the night
throwing ourselves on the fire
to fuel more
and more
until the last glowing ember has
extinguished itself
with itself
In the morning light
we drink our coffee
In the sugar bowl
are ashes.
submitted for Thursday Think Tank, #89 Light, at Poets United
