Fire At Midnight
I believe in fires at midnight when the dogs have all been fed.
A golden toddy on the mantle a broken gun beneath the bed.
Silken mist outside the window. Frogs and newts slip in the dark
too much hurry ruins the body. I'll sit easy … fan the spark
kindled by the dying embers of another working day.
Go upstairs … take off your makeup fold your clothes neatly away.
Me, I'll sit and write this love song as I all too seldom do
build a little fire this midnight. It's good to be back home with you.