It starts with a whisper, a hint, a tease, a flicker.

From a slow burn, to a glow, to a tentative spark. A hesitant hint of yellow, merging to orange, then red.

A final rush bringing fiery, brilliant sparks and the all-consuming dancing flames, engulfing all in its relentless path.

All too soon, the flames dim, the sparks disappear, glowing embers die, and grey ash is all that remains of the exotic dance.

As I watch the mirror of my life, the passing years, I pray the fire has not died totally, the embers will reignite.

Hope springs eternal.

Love remains.