While Sitting By the Fire

A Poem By Falafel

What is thy love but fleeting?

Like the first beauty of a picked rose

It’s time of blossoming soon fading

like the bloody red of your nose

By the fire you lie, aslumber

As it melts the cold between your toes

 

What is thy love but twisted

Like the thickened vines of ivy

Choking its host in the prettiest curls

Like the ones that grace your head so finely

Chin tucked; eyes closed

 

You sleep so soundly

next to a fire so alive

With full flames of anger, passion, sorrow, rage

I struggle to keep them all at bay

 

Your peace displeases me

Dreaming,longing, loving in old age

They are all lost in the heat

Because thy love is ash

Wasting at my burning feet