No More Kindness

There will be no more kindness to chop the firewood for the grate, No more boots sitting by the hearth, No washing to hang up above the mantelpiece, No hands rubbing against the flame not now the Fires died. The house seems cold, there will be no more fish on Friday, No home-made bread to dip into the broth, or mop up eggs at breakfast, No more set bath time not now the fires died. He will not strip waist pulling of his belt showing haste No more kneeling to undo laces or make sure his shirt is buttoned up No more games to play by the fire not now the fires died.