There, in the Sky

The fireworks are supposed to be history,
a flash of passion and color that falls
to the earth like ashes in the rain.

But that is not how love works.
No, instead
the fireworks echo into canyons

reverberating louder through the years,
never fading in the night,
but glowing brighter, ever brighter,

love and lust mingled, always
on the edge of bursting in the sky
again and again

like a magnificent finale
that never, ever ends.

About the Poem. 

No one understands that for some of us, passion doesn’t fade with time or age. Oh, our bodies may grow weaker, but the flame, the desire, the love? The appreciation of every smile, every curve, every smile and sparkle ? That only grows.

It may be that way for you, or the one you love. But that’s not the way polite society seems to think it should be. With age should come sensibility, good sense, a calming of the spirit. Passion, we think, is suspect. Dangerous.  Not to be trusted.

And yet, perhaps, just perhaps, it is the thing we should trust the most.

Tom

PS – The picture was taken in Rupert, VT, on the fourth of July, 2013