The Fire Remembers
The flames warm the heart of this home
The Fire Remembers
Fireplace roars with its old tongue,
the clock above keeps its still watch.
Hands moving yet never hurried,
heat folds around the room like a hush.
Embers glow with secret patience,
stone remembers every season it has endured.
Flames lean and whisper to the brass pot,
its belly once filled with coal and ash.
Now it listens like an elder in silence,
the walls catch every flicker and hold them close.
Time bends when fire breathes this way,
every spark becomes a hymn of survival.
The tools stand upright in patient service,
silent soldiers beside the blaze.
Their shadows stretch long on the floor,
waiting for the hand that turns them to work.
A house lives longer than the ones who enter it,
yet it never forgets the warmth of those who stay.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (3)
"heat folds around the room like a hush." I love this... we had several fireplaces in the house I grew up in... I remember being mesmerised by their flames. Beautiful poetry.
Nice, there is nothing more comforting on a cold night than a warm open fire.
You did paint the good side to a fire and its place. Good job.