While the Fire Burns

November 13, 2015

While the fire burns,

I will allow myself to learn

the rituals you keep.

~

On which side of bed do you sleep?

Do you flip your pillow often through the night,

to feel the cool cotton of the other side?

~

Do you pull on both socks before your shoes?

Or do you dress one foot at a time, 

before into the car you climb?

~

While the fire burns,

I will allow myself to learn

the rituals you keep.

~

Is it your desire to run,

while the morning sky is full of sun?

If not, is it your preference, 

to move in late afternoon air heaviness?

~

Does darkness fill the days with gloom?

Do you see life one with little room,

or are your days those of light, of space, and of grateful play. 

~

While the fire burns,

I will allow myself to learn

the rituals you keep.

~

Between the flicker of the flame

and the gray, smoldering ashes,

I learned to see in a picture frame

seemingly small moments as grand flashes. 

~

I see and feel your favorite coffee mug,

in my hand the curve of its white handle. 

In melded shadow we exist from a single candle.

~

On the stained wood mantle, in its spot it sits, 

next to the fan, yet not blown out it emits

what will be a memory. 

It will own a picture frame,

a grand small moment

in between ashes and flickering flame,

~

while the fire burns.

~

~ mary jane goodman

2015 November