Flowers of desire

I threw my flowers of desire,
to the burning pyre.
But the gentle breeze,
which lullabies the night,
ruffled the ashes
to carry the scent of my desire -
still burning
in thirst of your voice.
Aware of the improbability
I let it burn until it consumed itself.
But, my desire - to speak to you,
left alone
faded far into the night’s sky
unscathed,
alive and burning.