Challenging Poetry

the food of love

"If music be the food of love, play on; // Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, // The appetite may sicken, and so die." Twelfth Night

I find love is not fed by music or faces
or flowers or jewels or perfumes
contaminating the air until I can do nothing
but wheeze my breath into the world--
a thoughtless gift or overwrought song
can dowse the flame of live unborn

no, love is fed by little kindnesses,
a word, a praise, a compliment
unasked, a series of tender moments
between two souls that add on each other
like sparks cascading into campfire,
like the steady breath that gives just
enough air that it finally catches
into a conflagration

so warm all hearts sing
unbidden

Prompt: April 23—Shakespeare