A spark ignites, a heart takes flight,
In moments quick, it feels so right.
But fleeting as the morning dew,
Immature love is fresh and new.
It races fast, it burns so bright,
Unsure of wrong, unsure of right.
It clings with hope, yet slips away,
Like summer sun at close of day.
It dreams of more, but fails to see,
The depth where love is meant to be.
A love that’s tender, full of grace,
But struggles in its youthful pace.
Still, in its bloom, it holds a charm,
Unaware of future harm.
For even in its briefest glow,
It teaches hearts to feel, to grow.
About the Creator
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More stories from Jagadeeswaran Selvaraj and writers in Poets and other communities.
FPS: The Last Flame Challenge Winners
Welcome to our first Winners Announcement of the year and to the final challenge in the Fall Poetry Series. The Last Flame invited writers to sit with endings, using fire as a central image to consider what remains when something burns out: ash, warmth, memory, silence, or the faint promise of what comes next. The strongest pieces treated endings as gradual rather than sudden, allowing them to flicker, dim, and linger.
By Vocal Curation Team7 days ago in Resources
Comments (1)
This was so beautifully crafted. Loved it!