Today is also my husband's and my wedding anniversary. This is my love letter to him.
FLAME
Fires don't always die; sometimes, they smolder.
Embers glow beneath a cloak of ash.
Sometimes they blaze to red-robed conflagration,
immolate, incinerate -- then sear us to the bone.
Our love, this long-lived flame, is like that.
We have smoldered, we have smoked,
have sparked --and we have burned.
We have carried the red heart of fire in our cupped hands
and fanned the coals to heat the endless night.
We surprise ourselves by burning still,
a steady glow -- eternal flame of testament to love.
