No, our love was never like that.

Hi again!  It's Leslie and thought I would break into Kate's blog and share something I came across yesterday in Saint Paul.  I lived there for a couple of years but never noticed this poem that was pressed into wet cement,  just a few blocks from my old house.  

Not like fire.

Nothing like flames

or even

potentially 

aflame.

Nothing caught up with danger.

Nothing racing to take 

control

or possessions or 

no prisoners.

No, our love 

was never

like that.