I see a fire burning slowly
In the fireplace. It is a cold,
Quiet night and two find comfort
With each other. Sharing each
Others thoughts, he understands
How he came to love her. The
Soft glow of her brown eyes
Reflect not only the warmth of the
Fire, but reveal so much more.
Looking through them, deeper
Into the Soul, inner beauty is
Seen as it comes to life in her
Eyes. As I dwell upon the
Thought of her . . . .
Outside in the falling snow,
A boy holding out his palms
Until white.
Words that wrap around the soul and filter through a maze of emotions do not need to be perfectly logical, or even clear, pretentiously or otherwise. Even the empty chairs in the picture suggest that the reader can put him/herself in one and a mate in the other. Oliver Wendell Holmes once said that the law is not based on logic, rather on experience. Poetry deserves at least as much care.
I find this poem to be a rather strange juxtaposition between what appears to be a man alone imagining a woman with him in the comfort of firelight and a boy alone in the street. Other than that I don't see the connection.
Just as life during the pandemic was color-coded with different hues representing different levels of danger, life in its aftermath has become shaded in similar ways. As a self-styled “Seeker of Beauty with Beauty,” (borrowing from a quote by W.E.B.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Ron