experience

Experience

She sits, by the fire; I sit in the other room,
with door open, beautiful winter night, there
is nothing like log fire. She’s tearing up love
letters and tears run down her cheek as she
gives them to the flames that greedily devour
words written when the heart was afire,

I say nothing, the love letters weren’t written
by me, I’m no good at these things, but she is
doing it for me, I think, she has decided to stay
here in my cabin and is erasing her past; but
memories linger, and that’s ok; we have loved
before, this has made us who we are…now.