The silence of the quiet table

Broken only by the scrolling scribe

City lights flickering beneath

Dancing as if to the candle

That we sent away



Stories that seemed to matter

More every passing day

Shorn by the passing storms

Precious kernels

Waiting their turn



Prismatic Reds

Meeting mellow saffron

A match they had said

Made in heaven

Embers of the sparkle

That lit the world today



Comfortable conversations

Familiar fires

Stews that bring

The bacon home

As shards to flint

Brewing as we Burn.


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