Crackling logs, dripping crumpets,
toasting fork leaning in the grate.
Flickering blues and oranges that draw,
hypnotic, they mesmerise, tend to suffocate
my freedom of thought, instead my flights of fancy
dance with the flames and rise again to isolate
me from the crowd. I look hard into the fire's heart,
deep into the glowing beauty to facilitate
my dreaming; firelight reflects in my lover's eyes,
And I feel his fire burning hot and passionate.
Safe and warm, curled in comfy chair,
I feel loved, cherished even by this fire,
warmth steals over me, I feel its gentle journey
gradually awakening burning desire.
He pulls me to him, strokes my face flushed from the heat.
Soft words he speaks to me that will my heart inspire
to love; I move much closer to the brazier
The logs drop, aspirations are now on a pyre.
I shiver standing in this empty desolate place
The fire's gone out, my dreams make me a liar!
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