Holding On to Embers
A poem
A poem
Leaves of gold, brittle and cold,
float down from bare branches.
The chill wind whispers of winter’s hold
as sunlight fades in the glare
of evening.
Like love that once burned warm and bright,
now faded to a distant glow.
The fire dimmed
to dying embers,
left abandoned in the dark and cold.
The world grows still, the days shorten,
warmth and light soon to depart.
But memories of summer’s love
may yet sustain the hopeful,
faithful heart.
Though seasons change and ardour cools,
if tended well, love still endures.
Bank the embers
gently, guard the coals,
a spark
may kindle warmth once more.
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