our cottage fire

our cottage fire,
the crackling fire, the cuddling fire,
the farewell gift of the old oak who finally fell,
in the October of this realm,
this hearth where love is warmed
'neath handmade quilts and cozied honey tea,
beside our purring, softly purring cat,
we dream our mellow dreams,
of what has been and what will be,
in the flickering shadows of aging flames,
my love and me,
together here,
in the soft, soft light of our cottage fire.

our cottage fire,
the choir within her sings to us in many whispered voices,
lush lullabies to lull the worried thought,
soft serenades to soothe the wearied heart,
we listen,
we listen,
to hear once more, the tenderness
that melts young loves into works of art,
as candles melt as wicks are burned,
giving warmth to cold and light to dark.
my love and me,
together here,
in the soft, soft light of our cottage fire.

our cottage fire,
she ushers into a far and distant world,
where we are near,
oh, so very near,
where in a moment,
a deeper moment comes to be,
my love's blue and smoky eyes, they do ask,
"Do you love me, old man?"
my soul stumbles with what to say,
I try to bring some words to life,
wanting so to do,
in this low and luscious lover's light,
but all that sounds is my humble nod,
she smiles, she pats my cheek,
she understands, it is enough,
and we return to our cottage fire,
my love and me,
together here,
slumbering through the night
in the soft, soft light of our cottage fire.

 

The End

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