And so we watch and so we learn/With eyes wide for our dreams to yearn

Sit By the Fire and Think

I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen,
Of meadow-flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been;
Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were,
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair.
I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see.
For still there are so many things
That I have never seen:
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green.
I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago,
And people who will see a world
That I shall never know.
But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door

Tolkien again, I believe. Stumbled across it and just, oh yes. Yes yes yes. Doesn’t it just feel right? Pensive and contemplative, comfort and curiosity, what will happen, what could have happened, what did happen and why? Dreaming of then and now and all in between. It’s the sort of poem that goes with comfy couches and long thoughts, a slow ticking grandfather clock, a darken window reflecting the lamplight.
This, reader, is a poem written to be savoured.

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