Burning Thoughts

Whispers of Innocence

Irene, with her dark hair and keen mind,
A beacon of purity in an uncertain world.
Summer unfurls its warm embrace,
And she glides past Cylburn’s greenhouses,
Where fragrant blooms whisper secrets.

God, benevolent and watchful,
Shields her from evil’s touch,
Allowing only the untainted to approach.
Carl, burdened by life’s weight,
Finds solace in the rows of azaleas,
Their petals soft as whispered promises.

Yet the Ridge trail, once serene,
Now echoes with the clamor of progress,
The new JFX tearing through tranquility.
Carl retreats, seeking refuge
From the whirling noise of modernity.

Irene’s fingers dance on azalea greens,
A brilliant oriole flits to the willow bough,
Their colors melding seamlessly.
And there, emerging from the foliage,
Auburn hair frames a stranger’s face—
A handsome boy who steals her breath.

Careful Carl lifts his eyes,
Captivated by the girl he does not know.
An irresistible urge tugs at his lips,
And he smiles, astonished by fate’s hand.

Honeysuckle scents the summer breeze,
Irene offers him slices of sun-kissed orange,
Their sweetness a balm for weary souls.
Carl speaks of courtly tales,
Of innocence in a medieval world, their voices soft as silk.

Sweet Irene shakes her head,
Her eyes reflecting a shared understanding.
“Two innocents,” she sings softly,
“Lost in a perfect world, just for this moment.”

Carl takes her hand, heart racing,
And she leans in, their lips brushing—
An innocent kiss, a fragile butterfly alighting,
Whose sweetness will linger in memory,
Once in a lifetime.