A place by the fire in my old arm chair,
by Bernard Shaw
I am alone with no one my fire to share.
The crackling of logs burning bright,
Consoling me in my weary plight.
Shadows playing on ceiling and wall,
Ghosts past and present coming to call.
Outside the wind howls and moans.
Reminding me of my aching bones.
I am in the grip of melancholy deep,
Just past rendezvous I could not keep.
A fleeting glimpse of happiness long past,
With the echo's of words spoken too fast.
A candle in the window to light the way,
To any lost soul that wants to stay.
All are welcome to a place by my fire,
This is my wish my one desire.
Loneliness is what I fear most,
I am willing to play the welcoming host.
Come along guided by my candle's light,
And help me pass this lonely night