I was a wisp of smoke
burnt low on bonecold mornings
thick ashes I hid in,
and deeper my heartflame
I dreamt of a good heart
to blow my ashes far.
and stirred from this hollow
by the hearing of your name
Do you know the whisper?
You, that calls me who I am?
It tells me of your honest hearth
and the good fire you burn within.
I burn for you, and still more
by many whispers you spark
not to flare or choke
As good fire gives, as love, slow.
