When We Had Fire

When We Had Fire short poem

Photo by mariadelajuana

Here it is,
a silent circle branded into earth,
a pool of soft grey sodden ash
amid the rosebay and the ragged robin,
a remnant of the time
when we had fire
to burn the past,
yours and mine:
shoeboxes of letters,
cards,
and photographs,
that catalogued our several lives
before we met.

Here we came; our pact to purge these pasts
heal scars, seal wounds and here
that late May evening,
with the summer solstice still to come,
we sat under the stars.

And now years on,
with child in tow,
I find the place again.

We search with sticks
for snails and jewels and sprites
among the moss
while you unpack the groceries
and empty out the drier.

This, the place
when we had fire.

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Chris Baldwin

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Just finding my way through life and writing about what I see and feel.
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