A Patchwork of Ashes
Not unlike a patchwork of ashes
there were of course the odd snatches
of light and cool flame, left smoldering ..
Yet embered with a broadening smile
much like a rainbow, but with
the heat of a comet embroidered ..
Far too wild to tame ..
And whilst mirrors are no longer
kind to him, she still
occasionally says that he is beautiful ..
Of course, her love for artist fingers
and for his tongue are but a tribute
and a testimony to years of longing
But yes, still far too wild to tame ..
And rather like refracted light
what you see is not straight forward ..
Nor even, maybe what you get ..
In the end tho’ tis bent and angled
prismed even ..
like the mirrored reflection of a life ..
And then of course, not blameless ..
Indeed like love, once started
they should not stop but for a moment
at least until both ends are quenched ..
Like light itself, he could not grasp it
and so regardless, when extinguished
She eventually, just had to let the bugga go …