the fire

with the fire
gone out, you
stir the embers,
seeing the black
wisp of
grey ashes rise.
you find
the room too cold
when she
leaves, too hot
when she stays.
you turn up the
thermostat.
twist it
a little higher.
you are walking
around in
wool socks,
a sweater
and a coat.
you've even
put a hat on
as you search
for gloves
and a long scarf.
come back soon
you phone her.
you are
the kindling
to my fire.