I sit before the warming flames and muse
They dance on heat and draft then disappear
Old loves emerge and bring a cherished tear
How sweet the memories though one left a bruise
My youth has flown away not lacking cost,
A bird without recall who’s lost its nest
But free to soar the skies on heedless quests
Yet never to fly home the way is lost
A bruised heart never heals yet better sore
than absent the sweet strains of love in life
Its silken edge cuts deeply sweet like a knife
I sing to love’s e’er gentle, rising bore