Fireplace

 

A warm running Fireplace had to stay

Love was needed and some hugs right away

It was fifty shades of grey just without the grey

Flames flickering tonight but not today

Embracing the night below zero, I had to say

“I could never leave and walk out with dismay”

Above the Fireplace stood my portrait to portray

The inner feelings of an image pressed on replay

The fire burned the words which the picture had to convey

A twisted fairytale of colors painted in the month of May

On a table placed gently on a silver tray

Could it be wine, two glasses, maybe a bottle of Chardonnay?

It started with sparks of fire, growing stronger day by day

Temperatures rising, the fireplace was ready by Friday

A cozy room, thermal blankets and the wreath on the doorway

Things could not be this good cuddled up in Norway

The lingering smell of burning wood set the mood on the twelfth day

Unexplainable feelings left no room for word play

Silence was ideal to kneel, hands up to pray

Something that should be habitual and not only on Holy Thursday

Thankful and grateful to have one thing, I must not say

If all thoughts were listed it would be longer than an essay

So many words to express that only time can serve as an entrée

The Fireplace stays long ignited passed the holidays

Nothing can freeze the flames cold anyway

The symbol so powerful hold no secrets locked away

As wood burns the ashes pile up like a black ashtray

Bonds strong and intertwined like fire’s red vibrant colors, not Valentine’s Day

Positive thoughts run wild never wanting to complete the relay

A never ending theatrical dance like performances on Broadway

This meaning is deeper, though hesitant and simple to betray

Because the Fireplace must be fed to continue the beautiful display

All efforts are worthwhile to achieve smiles like on a child’s 6th birthday

To celebrate life and the joy of being on the right pathway

Now the hour strikes to close the fire’s doors as snow falls on the black driveway

Staring at the twisted portrait it has changed since Sunday

No more colors, but only an image of two electric smiles for the future someday

Contemplating the Fireplace below in a living room faded grey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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