The Fire
A little firefly circles
The big fire I have made for myself.
I shiver in front of the fire
It cannot keep me warm.
Not now, not anymore.
I don’t look the firefly in the eye.
A mug of tea sits right in front of me.
It stays neglected for a while.
A heat seller passes by.
He offers me some heat.
I cannot afford any heat now.
So I keep looking at my own fire-
The fire I have made outside my house,
Beside the large Venetian window.
I shiver and shudder.
It is cold here.
The rain this morning changed everything
And this little fire will never keep me warm.
It has its own stories to tell.
It is ancient.
Even my prehistoric ancestor knew it.
But since I am not my ancestor,
I go back to the house.
The firefly circling the fire
Leaves the fire and follows me inside.
I made the fire. I fed it.
It keeps burning.
But it couldn’t keep me warm.