Dancing Flame

The flames are dancing

to their own beat

as the room fills with

the coal fire’s heat.

Bottles are opened and

glasses are filled to the brim

while armchairs are

occupied to rest weary limbs.

The conversation flows

as stories are retold,

the front sitting room serves

as the last bastion for the old.

The younger ones sit gathered

around the kitchen table,

silently checking their phones

while others are smoking

against the outside gable.

Family members who haven’t

seen each other in years

warmly embrace through

eyes filled with tears.

A sudden death has reunited

everyone in grief,

but they time they will spend

together will be all too brief.

photograph of a burning fire
Photo by moein moradi on Pexels.com

 

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6 thoughts on “Dancing Flame

  1. What I really liked about your poem is how beautifully you have described the harsh reality. I agree with you.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Grief brings people closer. Beautiful poem!

    Liked by 1 person

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