In smoke you’ll rise above

The sordidness of all deceit,

The grime of earthly thought,

Yet, in this flash of living fire,

The flame of love is caught.

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IV

Just a packet of letters a while ago you were,

Now in vaprous symphony of gray

I send you back to her,

For the spirit of true love that’s penned,

Must rise to meet her soul

In pearly glory ’round her head.

Love’s halo—is its goal.

To rake over the dead ashes of a burnt out love one must use the pen point of poetry.

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