Prophylactic

If love doth be like winter’s day, 
clad in black, little light,
No… more so grey.
I beckon light candles abundant, 
Defy the terror of night’s sigil.

Lest it too shall take me ‘way.

Ere love doth chill in bosoms core,
I implore, I implore,
Dwindle in candle’s light,
Beacon of truest delight.
Where love doth shine the brightest.

Ere this too unspoken.

O’ver come this blackened day.
For love doth be like summer’s day,
That not nothing more than the light of candle lit,
That I say, that I pray.
beats back the wings of death’s prophet.

Ere this love too shalt fade.