From a deep sleep, in a womb
Of insulation
The chill touches my nose
As if the wood burning stove is starving
For fuel, to keep things cozy

I place a few logs on
Now, staring at the flames
Hypnotic, inducing a trance
Watching figures dance
A warmth contained in an iron box

I am awake now
Cheeks gathering color
Warm pinks, blood flowing
Watching flames, too close
Absorbing heat from dancers, beckoning

I should sleep
But, the flames have arms
Telling stories on silent nights
I listen to their soft songs, eyes glowing

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