At_Last

Your face. A glance. Dream in dread, Embraced in dance.

Simple notes of love returned, Prefer To symphonies of hope, unearned. Songs of passion singed these lips Until illusion's joy was stripped With my youth. In truth, Lost in wishes, not to be, Dreams by day are not for free. As logs ablaze Are we consumed with change? We can blight, Or we can warm the night. In this glow, we glean A yield we've never sewn before.

Fire's pleasures play As vapors drift astray.

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