Wood

The storm gathered and the wind howled Clouds were dark and ominous hinting of rain He loved the rain and the wind The branches swayed to their rhythm He gathered sticks for the fire and the cold The lights flickered as thunder cracked There was nothing like a warm fire And the limbs doing the cha cha The fire wood was stacked by the door He was a deepened romantic and the fire He loved her most under the covers He loved to show her his wood She loved when he put it in the fire That was what he missed most