He pleads
Do not forsake
Cold air to
The mantelplace
Each patterned tile
Memories upon
The cold hearth
Has death begun ?
The black iron
That cradled coal
Now pierces
His very soul
Its twisted frame
In silent voice
Aging hands
Grasping choice.
A special form
Of loneliness
Wraps his frame
Without a kiss
Its cold indifference
Empathy aloof
As smoke which left
Via chimneys shute.