The warmth of the fire
Makes me think of home
A place I once belonged
A time when dreams were
Still hanging on the mantle
Every Christmas Eve.
We were happy then weren’t we?
Before we understood
What was happening to us
All.
How could we see
In the soft pillow and blind of youth
The future would turn against us?
Warm fires were made
For moms and dads
Brothers and sisters
Hot chocolate and marshmallows
Quilts that wrap around lovers
The orange glow reflecting and reminding
An artificial light
The crack of broken wood
Leaving a stir of ash to wait
In silence
Till morning.
(Previously published in Joey And The Black Boots, #38, June 2002)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Who can ever forget These lovely sights With mom and dad And brothers and sisters behind The fire of home town still blesses one In the happy dreamland ……………..beautiful nostalgic lines…. Abha