My Love

candle and its smoky breath.

The wick is furled upon the tip,

The wax is neither burning quick.

Fire and redemption of,

The quaintness of the loss of love.

Heaven tore the morning sky,

As seen by all the stangest eye.

For on this earth i do protest,

My lovers soft embrace,

To give her every wish in rest,

Or follow through a guilted chase.

Lead me to the wall of white,

As roses wither in the night.

And taste the beauty, as petals sigh,

My love your burning flame so bright.

Your lips down hard on mine

© Aug 19

Rhyme