"It was just a tiny spark," he said
Not enough to set the love on fire
The flames in those words however,
Singed me black with soot, sire.
He felt the spark and yet,
Pressed his fingers on the tiny flame,
It went out with a wisp of smoke,
And love's fire was never set aflame.
But what he didn't realise was that,
I felt more than just a spark start,
And that love was on fire really,
But it was just inside my heart.
That fire of love burning steadily in me,
Just stayed in a hidden inferno of doubt,
And I learnt to tame it and mould it,
And contain it without burning me out
But when love is on fire,
It's untamed and wild those embers,
And one day again they escaped
From the carefully designed fireproof chambers
And the fire started glowing again,
Catalysed by a different spark it did perceive,
Because love is on fire, again,
And it time its a wildfire massive.
And this time it's raging stronger than control,
And 'love is on fire' I say still with a sigh,
Just again this time the other side,
Doesn't know I'm burning or why?
A/N Inspired from a poem with the same title in the collection 'Rhymes, Rhythms and Poetry' by cchinu.
Go check out all his books in my reading list 'From the Wizard' s hat' and I bet you'd love it, every bit of it.
YOU ARE READING
MUSINGS OF A SOLIVAGANT
PoetryJust like her solivagant mind wanders and the soft vernalagnia colors her cheeks, rosy - poetry swells from her inside. What her camera captures, spins words of hope and despair in her. Where the heart bleeds on to the paper, there springs poetry...
