Villanelle

At the cross-road of memory and desire,
secrets and dreams were summarized by ash;
the phoenix of my heart was spent by fire.

Your gentle laughter brought the immortal flyer
passing all space and time in a single flash
to the cross-road of memory and desire;

There, unintentionally, you built a pyre,
made out of a blend of thoughts and words, some mash
for the phoenix of my heart, a stranger to fire.

Unknowingly, you ignited the wire –
first a candlelight, and then a white splash
at the cross-road of memory and desire.

The odour of the flesh was rising higher;
yet you were unaware of the smoking gash:
the phoenix of my heart had caught on fire.

Soon nothing but ash remained for you to admire;
your breath had blown away the lifeless trash…
At the cross-road of memory and desire,
the phoenix of my heart was spent by fire.