Monday, February 3, 2014

Orange Love

If love were only passion
   We'd see orange and not red,
For flaming burning beauty
    Is yellowish instead,
And though it's flickering light
     Illumines the lover's bed
Morning's glow will come again
      To shine on what is dead.

So love's color then is red
      Like bleeding sacrifice
The inward stuff pouring out
      Not worrying over price
Without fear's hold, completely pure
        Of yellow's cowardice
For deep inside we all admit
          That less just can't suffice.

But orange's symbol has it's place
       The reminder of new kindling fire
The needs we have set free set loose
        By the spark of our desire
The end does not the beginning blame
         For mistakes that do transpire
It's not the flame that leads astray
          But the actions our fears require.