The crisp night breeze off the leas signals a need for evening fire
In ashes an ember, a glow, a spark to remember of afternoon's desire
A breath, a blow ignites and does grow into a whispering flame
erasing shadows that shrink, rise and sink, darkness to tame
Dim flickering light, birthed in halls of night illuminates shades of past day's story
It warms a shiver, hope does deliver, delaying wanning day's color in dyeing glory
The day it does save, resurrected from the grave, where in ashes it lay dead
But with memory's breath brought back from death, it lives burning in one's head
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