The quiet room

a place where thoughts

come to life

bouncing off walls

and never settling in the same.

Only the licks of flame,

the cracks as birch lights up

to offer a solace,

a peace from the strain.

I’m listening intent

hoping some break

in the silence

of my calcified mind.

I could stay here forever,

watching the fire,

feeling the embrace

of silence inside the chaos.

A full moon is waiting outside,

hidden by a blanket of cloud,

maybe tomorrow

help explain this sorrow.

I’m watching the embers

await another log,

more licks to the fire,

more crackling aroma

of wood bursting

before my eyes.

Silence by a fire

whatsoever may transpire.