An Hour Ago

I stared into the hearth-fire then,
The embers left of birch and oak
It doesn’t warm my bones as well
As last night, held beneath your cloak.

Of all the painful things I’ve seen,
The resignation on your face
As yet another danger looms
Almost takes the pride of place.

And still you flat refuse to learn
That all your hurt I’d gladly share
The helping hand when you can’t stand,
The gentle touch upon your hair.

The fire’s out now: naught remains
Except the ash; and that I know
Tonight you’ll sleep alone like me,
And dream of where our loved ones go

 

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(OC Author - Ni Claydon)