Hearth

Within my chest there burnt a passion.
A fire strong and fierce.
But now that flame has banked and wanes,
starved of air and fuel.

The winter air is cool and sharp,
a wind of traitorous embrace.
Wolf, he howls out his despair
to the crestless moon.

Among grey ashes within the hearth
an ember weakly glows.
With the breeze of spring's sweet voice,
flame and desire now grow.