An old flame, once hot and affirm,
Spreading the gentle galore of fortune,
One possesses abundant, not known,
Tips of the fingers and the toes are just a form,
...
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Maybe the flame is always young, it is the torch that gets old. Flame keeps burning without blowing off. Beautifully presented in the poem. Thank you.
Hello Veeraiyah I like this flame very much. Flames aglow, where the minds have thought alike. I love that line Well done
ahh....the desire to glow bright! inked it so well poet.