The Hearth Where Dreams Are Gathered In
Glittering on the bauble brass, reflective sheen of flame,
Logs that crackle and spit in charring tongues,
The air of smoke and magic burns tonight,
Spellbound breath held deep in childhood lungs.
So sing the dizzy heads with tinsel thoughts,
Far carols weave an echoed wreath of sound,
A world suspended in an instant's peace
As though it need no longer spin around.
The hearth where dreams are gathered in,
Words on vellum writ by eager hands,
Trembling fingers cast them to the fire,
The purest wishes, innocent demands.
Flecks of blackened paper ride the flue
As light as ether, dreams that take to flight,
High above the rooftops swirl these hopes
And seek for some recipient in the night.
How memories will return on hallowed eves
When children replicate the bygone ways,
And in so doing tell the aging heart
These are the holy grail of better days
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
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