Love's Flames

She sits in a meadow,
wild flowers around,
While the minutes slip quietly past,
Awaiting the time that he will appear,
So long since the time they met last.
When he held her close and covered her lips,
That tasted of berries and dew,
And drank of the wine their passion produced,
The flavor both heady and new.
And though years have passed,
they’ve not Slowed down the yearning,
Of a heart where love flames
and The fires are still burning.

© 2002 Loree (Mason) O’Neil

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