Thoughts

Outside the air is crisp and cold
The snow lies on the ground
There stands a deserted birdbath
No birds, or sounds around

Inside, the fireplace lights the room
With it's embers of yellow and blue
It's pattern flickers on the wall
Shadows of memories dance there too

A half smoked pipe, an unread book
On the table by the chair
Boxes neatly by the door
Labeled, fragile, handle with care

Looking out into the night
A man stands deep in thought
Then slowly turns to tend the fire
Leaving the battle he's just fought

 (c)  S. Freeman 1998