Dying Embers 

She sat by the fireplace,soothed by the warmth her heart could only yearn for.She gazed intently at the embers crackling in distress…their desperate plea to the adamant flames not to disappear.

For if it were not for the passionate desire of the flames to burn on,there was little the poor embers could do.Except burn as bright as they possibly could before fading away,as a futile reminder of the beauty they had conjured together.

She added another log of wood-a meek effort to sustain the fire a little longer,wondering to herself if she could do the same in her own life…to keep the fire burning,to keep the warmth of good times and precious memories from fading away into the cruel,black smoke of oblivion.

Her mind spinning in a whirlpool of nostalgia,she looked on dreamily at the dying embers,that seemed tired of trying to persuade the flames,their last vestige of patience reducing to ash.Finally,it burnt out.

Curiously enough,even after the fire had long been extinguished its smoky smell lingered-on the fabric of her dress,on the exquisite carpet in the room,on the greyish sofa,strikingly similar to the bittersweet smoke that remains in our hearts,once the fire of  affection inevitably burns out.


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