It’s cold in this house,
has been for many months.
I keep putting logs on the fire,
watching them slowly
catch,
burn,
and smolder into ash.
The flames dance like lovers,
tangled about each other,
making silhouettes on my wall.
If I had the courage,
I’d join them, dancing along
the kitchen floor in socks and an old t-shirt,
humming the words to a song I no longer remember
but have stuck in my head.
I still hum the words,
even though my feet are stuck to the ground,
goosebumps are trailing up my arms,
and the fire went out hours ago.
So It Goes 