Remembered Whispers Poem by James Walter Orr

The embers burn, I cannot quench their heat.
The whispers of desire become a shout.
My heart does yearn with some primordial beat
That fans the fire; exacerbates my doubt
That we can ever pass this way again.
All hopes and dreams must always be in vain.

Those ruffled edges of the flames that were:
Nay, let me change that to the flames that are
In fact, but hedges for the truths that blur,
Memories that range still yet, both near and far:
Awakened, once, on whispers of desire,
Sleep sadly now, beside a dying fire.