Warmth

A poem I wrote for Random Acts of Poetry Day

come here,

warm your hands

by the fire to

chase away the cold

that seeped into our

fingertips.

above the fireplace,

on a shelf, sits a

small, wooden chest.

what is in that chest?

within that chest

are my memories

not just any memories though -

memories of love,

joy,

hope.

memories of kind things

people have done for me,

and the good I have done for others.

memories of laughter and hugs.

memories of art and food and cats.

why?

because when the darkness

creeps into my heart

and my soul starts to shiver,

I take down my chest

and remember the good.

two sit by the fireplace.

warmth.