In the darkness <br />and in the stillness of the morning <br />I have a hollow thought <br />that comes without warning <br /> <br />Should I go on <br />or should I not <br />This life of struggle <br />now half heartedly fought <br /> <br />Sleeplessly I kept the coal fire burning <br />torn between fear and fascination <br />That the stove of necessity treatened <br />either heat or home incineration <br /> <br />With door open I gazed inside <br />and felt the burning warmth upon my face <br />lured into the hot orange fire <br />blue flames dance and each other chase <br /> <br />Coal was made just to burn <br />what other purpose does it fill <br />And what purpose do I have I wonder <br />and not knowing I again feel ill <br /> <br />So I heat a pot of water upon the stove <br />and watch it begin to boil <br />and brew a cup of tea <br />as my mind burns its midnight oil <br /> <br />I feel the lure of the fire <br />and watch it from my chair <br />and at its random dancing <br />I stare and lose my care <br /> <br />Whatever was my reason <br />isn't anywhere <br />Its just a staying warm tonight <br />thoughts now lost like dreams in the coal's burning glare <br /> <br />2008 © James T. Adair<br /><br />JAMES T. ADAIR<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/burning-coal/
