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