…I may be old and I may be bent
But I had the money till it all got spent
I had the money till they made me pay
Then I had the sense to be on my way
I had to stay in the underground
I was in the house when the house burned down…
The fires in my garden were festive, exciting –
Stars and sparks mingling
Woodsmoke a spicy scent, in your hair lingering.
The fires in my fireplace were friendly, inviting –
Warming and mellowing music and wine
The glow in the hearth made your eyes gleam and shine.
But this was a fire that was bitter and frightening
It came uninvited
Rapacious as lightning
Tore through the house, left my life dark and hollow
Its flames soon extinguished
Then long-lasting sorrow.
Weeks of toil, months of mourning, confusion and grieving
And realisation of what is not here –
Then sweep up the ashes and dump what we’re leaving –
We’ll build a new bonfire
The first of the year.
Poem by TW
