Two fireplaces remain
in this house, built in the Twenties.
Their elegance long-lost,
each leftover mantel
a home for knick-knacks, small
framed pictures, newly received letters.
The living room boasts a fancy
oil heater – modern,
square box of fire —
heat roaring behind tiny doors,
the ring burning bright.
Brown-box filled with fresh oil,
on the hearth, winner
over the old fireplace it hides —
Better than wood and coal,
used sparingly – this precious oil –
on the coldest of days.
Loyal, old dinning room stove
stays true to plain and useful.
It’s black-iron belly – gorging
itself on wood and coal,
a ritual breakfast-dinner-supper.
Each day – You
hot-top, flat-for-use practical friend.
You, I loved and understood,
as you joined me in play —
in old tin cans. Trying to find
that certain-perfect and unique color – Like
a favorite pet: I fed you, cleaned you, played
beside you on cold winter nights . . .
anticipated your warmth
on cold winter mornings.
No fireplaces remain
in this ghost of a house
wavering and faded in my old child’s mind.
Each mantel long gone,
along with the heart pills,
chipped collectable plates,
half-cut school pictures, and
several frayed pieces of unfinished-hand-tatted-lace.
Artwork Credits: Special thanks for the use of Journey by ©Svetlana Novikova. Please visit the artist at her website or at Fine Arts America to find out more about her work, or to purchase a print, poster, or greeting cards. Also, you can see her information on our Featured Artists Page.
I remember the saturdays spent melting crayons, wow what a mess we made at times, but the creative people we are now was so evident then. I have always loved the memories I share with you that make me smile. I love you dearly…
I know. I do have such great, fun memories of us playing and wreaking havoc. I treasure them too. Strange to think we are the only ones living now with those specific memories. I love you, Sis! Thanks for reading and commenting :+)