Always before when I looked for love,
I searched for passion and lightning.
I looked in vain for an all-consuming fire
A touch that burned or a whirlwind of desire.
These are things for romance novels.
For the fantasy characters of our minds.
So I stopped looking and gave up
Determinded to live my life without love.
Then laughter entered my life
In a pair of smiling eyes.
Conversation walked through my door
With an open mind.
And passion burns slowly in my heart
From a touch that warms
Like a gentle fire in the winter....
With just a brush of your hand.
I don't want those things in the novels...
Those lies of love and desire.
I want laughter and talk, a warm touch and a smile,
Here at the hearth of my warm winter fire.
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