Love is not a forest fire that burns intensely, hotly and out of control for a brief moment until, its expendable fuel spent, it sputters, seeking in vain for something else to consume, to sustain itself before, finally, it dies: cold, black ash the only evidence of its passing.
Love is, instead, a campfire: it provides ample heat and comfort to the twosome who sit before it, and although its flames may at times wane, a well-tended campfire’s embers can be nurtured and fanned until the flames once again dance brightly and cheerfully, providing comfort to the couple who cherish the gentle warmth it ministers.
