Fireside

Fireside

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 the times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door.

~ Bilbo Baggins ~

Its a cold wintery day with rain pelting down and wind rustling through the trees. The little birds shelter upon the branches and shake the raindrops from their wings. The house is full of creaks and draughts as the fire glows from the pinecones gathered in the autumn, and the air is filled from baking, just taken from the warm oven. People wrapped warmly with their long woollen socks and snuggly slippers, music is playing quietly while the fire continues to flicker. Its a cold wintery day outside my house but warm as toast by the fireside.

Have a great Sunday evening :)