Embers
Two courtesans stand watch over the room,
First, a graceful dancer lithe like a loon,
And then a tin stranger, her stoic groom.
Silently he stares at his true love's face,
Thinking wondrous things of that little waif.
Again, his shy smiles grace her rose blush,
While he stands at his post, flush!
But an errant wind gives flight to her feet,
"Help!" she screams, removed from her seat.
Winter's capricious gust, leads her astray,
Into the hearth where embers play.
Paper crinkles and rose blush smears,
As the soldier exclaims. "I come, my dear."
So the tin man falls, sealing his fate,
Meeting his love, in the fire's grate.
Now wood is burning, as is tin,
Tears and sadness, masked in Inferno's kiln.
This was a final goodbye, but also a first hello,
Breaking the fury's sorrow with a warming glow.
Outside no one watches these melting hearts,
That shall nevermore, be kept apart.