To stoke the flame of love
I still recall, unfolding before me,
The scene awash with silvery moonlight,
The night that blessed our love of a first sight,
How fateful was the night that helped us be,
The moon when seemed super, superb its light,
And still can make no one’s life just as bright.
Like moon’s phase we changed, oft to disagree—
More often than the tides at the seashore,
Agreed, not a thing stands as firm as tree,
Change is life’s nature born from very core,
So, let us rekindle our early flame,
No fire burns bright without stoking the same.
Why, nothing burns at all without fuel
And fresh fuel comes from stoking gone dull.
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Sonnet (Musings) |05.08.2014| love, moon
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