The warmth of the fire Makes me think of home A place I once belonged A time when dreams were Still hanging on the mantle Every Christmas Eve. We were happy then weren't we? Before we understood What was happening to us All. How could we see In the soft pillow and blind of youth The future would turn against us? Warm fires were made For moms and dads Brothers and sisters Hot chocolate and marshmallows Quilts that wrap around lovers The orange glow reflecting and reminding An artificial light The crack of broken wood Leaving a stir of ash to wait In silence Till morning.