I sit beside the hearth fire of your words,
A temporary light by feelings heard.
Beyond the dark rim, winter's killing fields
Encroach upon a heart by memory sealed.
Time like a brave old rooftop slants with snow,
Pictures the elegance of far ago,
When warm sound was enough to make the cold,
Paint a sunset of instrumental gold.
Sandra Fowler
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-sunset-song/
