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Images and pictures, dancing in the flames, dreamy by the warmth of a fire. |
| Crackling logs, dripping crumpets, toasting fork leaning in the grate. Flickering blues and oranges that draw, hypnotic, they mesmerise, tend to suffocate my freedom of thought, instead my flights of fancy dance with the flames and rise again to isolate me from the crowd. I look hard into the fire's heart, deep into the glowing beauty to facilitate my dreaming; firelight reflects in my lover's eyes, And I feel his fire burning hot and passionate. Safe and warm, curled in comfy chair, I feel loved, cherished even by this fire, warmth steals over me, I feel its gentle journey gradually awakening burning desire. He pulls me to him, strokes my face flushed from the heat. Soft words he speaks to me that will my heart inspire to love; I move much closer to the brazier The logs drop, aspirations are now on a pyre. I shiver standing in this empty desolate place The fire's gone out, my dreams make me a liar! |