Fire in the Fireplace

I spent a quiet snowy evening
alone, dreaming and reflecting
on past loves and losses
and past loves and successes.

Sometimes we swing and miss,
and sometimes we catch love
with the meat of the bat
and drive one
straight out of the park.

Gentle flakes fell,
stirred by a breeze,
as I enjoyed a warm
apple cider spiked with
a shot of Tennessee Red.

Lively fire
is crackling in the fireplace
of my memories.
Not all past is bad,
and those that hurt
when I lived them
made me grow and learn.

This is no text book like life;
the scrap paper bookmarks
and dog eared pages
make good reference points.
Gently browse.
Read what is scribbled
in the margins.

Yawn and stretch
time for bed.
I think I will
take Emily sledding tomorrow.
I spent a quiet snowy evening
alone dreaming and reflecting.