Fire.


Time
once again,
closes its grip
on my broken world…

You wrapped my dreams
in a blanket, and took them
tenderly by the fire, by your fire…
and you waited… for the next morning.
The fire dies, mornings pass, and nothing
remains of that night but some ashes, a dream
and you… and I.

I can never forgive myself for making you cry…
I try but I cannot. For hardening your heart over the years
For all the screams. For the fights. For life. For you… and I.
For my hand on your back, for my hand on your chest,
keeping you erect,
while I slip away in the folds of another life…
another city…
another river…
another…
another…
another…
For you are the curator of all what we have…
and a lot we have…
to share with the others…
and we only have each other…
and a dream wrapped in a blanket by a dying fire…

For what once was… and will always be… US!!