The Fire (My Marriage)

I watch the fire with half-lidded eyes
as dancing flames turn to dull, ruby coals.
The ashes bearing no resemblance
to the once sturdy hardwood logs.

The logs had caught slowly,
fed by the excitement of the kindling's flame.
But, in good time, the real fire took hold
and the warmth was spread throughout my soul.

From time to time I'd feed the fire
keeping the blaze hot and pure.
I lay reading on the couch with a blanket
only needed for psychological reasons.

But now, I have read my book too long.
The flamenco flames now dull, glowing coals
and, ghost-like, gray, smoldering ashes.
The room, once lit by the fire, darkens.

I could fan the embers and add more fuel
but the warmth is gone.
I snuggle in my blanket and create my own warmth
and, watch, as the fire dies...