The Fire Remembers

The Fire Remembers

Fireplace roars with its old tongue,

the clock above keeps its still watch.

Hands moving yet never hurried,

heat folds around the room like a hush.

Embers glow with secret patience,

stone remembers every season it has endured.

Flames lean and whisper to the brass pot,

its belly once filled with coal and ash.

Now it listens like an elder in silence,

the walls catch every flicker and hold them close.

Time bends when fire breathes this way,

every spark becomes a hymn of survival.

The tools stand upright in patient service,

silent soldiers beside the blaze.

Their shadows stretch long on the floor,

waiting for the hand that turns them to work.

A house lives longer than the ones who enter it,

yet it never forgets the warmth of those who stay.