Fire Sale Poem by Mark Heathcote

From naïve teenage beginnings
Chard embers are all we now have left.
Left to remember, those hearts we kept
Like a house brick, from an old life existence.

Like an unlucky, pendant charm bracelet
With a burning-hearth and a heart of fire
Souvenir capsules are all we are all now
That is all we have left, too hold.

With a lump in our throats
It's hard to swallow,
With all their pangs of empty, sorrow.
It's all still too raw and broken

Since then, we've had a fire sale.
And given up blaming one another
Because it all went up in flames
And smoke, far, far too cheaply-to-matter.

To contemplate forgiving one another.
To except we were once a family
And you were my lover and that together-
We even had three children together.

But what did we invest in?
Our love grew far too fast-
Like a weak weeping willow
And when those evil storms came.

We had lost all our leaves, green & gold.
They'd all just spoiled and turned yellow.
From our naïve teenage beginnings
We should have known, what was to follow.

What sense can we make from this?
Chard embers are all we have left to hold.
Hearts kept like a house brick from an old life.
A souvenir capsule is all we have left, too hold.

Since then, we've had a fire sale.
But even now this brick we've lost.
Cause if we're to move-up from the gutters
We have to remember time is a great healer.

But as yet I'm still not a believer in fire sales.