Warming Up

to sit before a fiery hearth
selfbuilt with bricks of old
to watch the sprites from sunset years
relight my dancing soul
Flickering memories of life
when busily astir
To sit beside my loving wife
as silver streaks our hair
The warmth enfolds this old farm room
we sit and sup and sip
Toss paper plates on burning coals
And refill cherished mugs
It's not the finest china sold
and nothing seems to match
Remembered gifts from friendly souls
that cause my breath to catch
Some yet here and some well gone
Through doors that have no latch
and yet the soft familiar touch
caresses and consoles
as morning light unfolds

Reviews

[Nan]

It's said that poetry is taking an ordinary occurrence and writing it so that it seems special.
It is the sound of your heart that speaks, of thanks for your lady and friends you've enjoyed,
and how love keeps repeating its beautiful refrain.

It's good to read you, and may love bid you write many more,

Nan

[An Ordinary Woman]

ohhh this is wonderfully heartwarming, it makes me happy to know you have this in your life. You are so very blessed, but then you already know that. :+)

[Ed Hart]

my goodness, Donald...i am so pleased for you, that you touch these things...this, from a man who knows that you can touch every instant of all times in the dancing flames...

[Rain]

Wow.
This is a really beautiful song of words...very profound and poignant. I truly liked this piece. Rain..