An Armoire

To this distant memory, an armoire, and one night
My veins held within them a boiling fire of haste and naught
Feeding my flesh with calcium, brazed cotton, and lacquered wood
Never had it been predicted, but shall remain unknown
As abstract melodies sing,
my lungs cried and inhaled the smoke,
Breath that night was lost in the stars falling to earth's craters,
but awoke this early morn I did,
To find nothing but my pillow, tea, and book
Not a rain cloud sprinkled for those lusting in thirst
Tis but life's brave surrender after summer's birth
And what shall move onward through winter's blessed death
Will await by the stolen hearth
to contemplate the lowly chill of that memory and of an armoire

Susie E.