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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
