In the dying embers,
where the flames were just a memory
and the heat that was, became a piece of
history,
on the corner of the mantelpiece, her
picture stood for all to see and
I grew cold,
shivering with anxiety.

At
3 am she rang to say,
that she'd be home later that day,
no explanation or apology, and
the heat that was
cooled into history.