Cold Fire
Such a sweet glow
a beautiful sight
I reach to touch
And yet I know
it's only shallow light -
there won't be much
of warmth in you
your caress is mere
coloring where it may.
But the chill is true
your finesse is clear
a mastery of play
Real, yes, but cold
nothing deep, a thin gleam:
fleeting display of fire -
The heat of gold
won't keep; it would seem
that you are frozen desire . . .
kecline / 11-95