Moving Images Challenge #56

STORM

The rose bush, his birthday gift to me three years ago, was decked in glorious red that glimmered in the rain.  I watched the raindrops sparkle on the passion-colored petals; I watched the rain drop ceaselessly from a cool grey sky.  It struck me then how great a contrast there was between the fire blazing in the blooms outside my window and the deluge that could not douse it.

I lay in bed, alone, and let myself recall another kind of fire.  It had burned up more than just the sheets...it had burned us both alive.  And we had kept returning to its crucible, to be tried, and proved, and made pure in its furious heat.  I could not lie still.  I had to record the emotions sweeping through my mind, my heart, my soul.  I had to get the fire out before it consumed me yet again.  Because I knew a single consummation was never to be borne.  I needed to expunge it with pen and ink.

And as I wrote it out, my tears fell, like the rain...