The Passion, The Fire!
where lies the passion,
and where lies the fire?
i walk the path of your body
from a distant shore!
the trembling scent
of an old book long unopened,
my hands covered with ashe
as i stir the embers.
a gust of wind?
a broken glass...
the key turns in the lock
with protesting moan.
wax figures half melted,
a locket in the ashtray.
morning whimpers and comes,
as if it never left!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Added by Poetry Lover
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