moths dispersing from the dust of the ground
recollections of the ashes of memories precipitating
from the burning candlewick igniting the tree-torches
spreading the crispy fragrance of the first kiss of charcoal
like gentle ripples through the air she traverses the cloud bridges
setting the night warm and light with the fireplace of fireflies
to thaw the frost and ice that just won't melt away
I feel the heat of the presence with its slightest brush on my cheek
till the flower blooms and moon shines reeking with bliss
nowhere she traces the horizons with the beams of hope
