Amazing how our analogies change with time
while time itself refuses all such metamorphosis.
In the early days of our love I thought you a fire.
Now, decades on -- you turn dear -- to water.
I was shamed at first, to think such thoughts.
Finding myself more often than not seeing eyes
deep and clear as a mountain stream, answering.
No. A lake, where the bottom is seen from the top.
None of the blaze is gone, but a desire to drink
seems to replace the need to consume.
Perhaps I matured into what you already knew.
Nothing that burns would exist, but for water.
-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --