Thursday, November 17, 2011

Making Love

I’m here at my forge, making love.

Hot sparks fly up into my protective mask as I bring the hammer down, again and again, onto the anvil, shaping my love into what I hope will be perfection. I won’t rest until my love is perfect.

You’re worth nothing less.

You’re waiting for me at home, and I imagine you miss me terribly. I miss you too. I’d dearly love to return to you, I’ve barely seen you in weeks.

But I can’t go home yet.

Not until I’ve made love that I know is worthy of one such as you...

1 comment:

  1. Nice piece. I envision this not so much as a love story but more as a part of a creation mythos - God literally making the emotion, Love.