When poets write of love that's like a storm
beyond control, a raging fire that sears,
I treasure our fine flame that's safe and warm
yet glows more brightly through the passing years.
Beyond control a raging fire that sears
is passion for a day. A love that's true
yet glows more brightly through the passing years,
outlasts eternity, forever new.
Is passion for a day a love that's true?
It dazzles then it dies. Our fire more pure
outlasts eternity, forever new;
through darkest night it burns both strong and sure.
When poets write of love that's like a storm,
I treasure our fine flame that's safe and warm.
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