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Love was once a wildfire, reckless and bright,
igniting every touch, setting the night alight.
We spoke in heat, in whispered desire,
hearts beating wild, hands tracing fire.
But love is not meant to stay a flame,
not a spark that burns and flickers the same.
It softens, it deepens, it learns how to stay—
not just in longing, but in the light of day.
It shifts in the quiet, reshapes in the dark,
a slow-burning ember where once was a spark.
It is not lesser—it is not lost,
but tempered by time, by trust, by cost.
Now love is steady, a warmth that endures,
woven in laughter, in gestures, in words.
It’s your hand on my back as I pass,
the glance that lingers, the quiet that lasts.
It’s coffee waiting before I wake,
a blanket pulled close for comfort’s sake.
It’s the sound of my name, not urgent, not wild,
but spoken with care, with years reconciled.
Desire may fade, but devotion remains,
etched in the rhythms, the soft, sweet refrains.
Intimacy shifts, but it never departs,
it lingers in trust, in well-worn hearts.
Love is not lesser for burning low—
it is richer, fuller, and more certain to grow.
Not the fire of then,
but the foundation of now.
Not the spark,
but the glow that remains.