Fireplace: A Song

Mon amour

You, I conjure.

Cold, wet flakes

Turn to stars.

Frozen lakes

Charm the heavens

In wintry pace.

My soul yearns for candy

From a store afar:

My waiting heart

Hangs at your fireplace.

Mon amour

I cannot abjure

This rough magic:

Attired in fur and lace

Dance my non-logic fantasies

That your grace.

With impious thoughts as these

I madness ensure:

My waiting heart

Hangs at your fireplace.