The Fireplace of Christmas Past
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founded 2004 by ron cruger
A place for intelligent writers
by Frank Shortt
A place for intelligent readers
2018 Spectator Ron - The Spectator All Rights Reserved
The old fireplace stands so forlorn
Dead coals and ashes lie about
The tabby cat no longer yawns
Thinking of past mice he had caught!
The old hearth broom, worn to the nubs,
Stood idly by where it was placed
Where grandma swept up all the mess
Produced by children
as they played!
Her rocker sways not anymore
As she sewed, knitted, or crocheted,
Grandpa’s easy chair is empty
as he lazed.
We used to think that Santa Claus
Came down that old blackened chimney
We wondered if his suit was soiled,
Noel it cleaned up mystically.
No longer snug, no longer swept,
It dreams of ghosts of Christmas past
The old fireplace sure
It thought the warmth would always last.