Firing Up The Hearth

(AND BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE)

Our hearth and home had grown so cold
As had our heart’s desire,
And so we searched for what was old
To start a brand new fire.
We used for kindling crap we kept
All to our sorry selves,
Beneath the cold bed where we slept
And on our old gray shelves.

We sacrificed old baggage that
Had only dragged us down,
Those loads of luggage that long sat
All tattered, torn and brown.
We ripped off every darkened door
All down our lonely halls.
We raised the worn boards from the floor
And even tore down walls.

We pulled out pages that we ripped
From books we kept in bags
For far too long, and even stripped
And sacrificed our rags.
Then turned our old newspapers piled
Upon our sagging porch
Into a type of taper styled
Just like a twisted torch,

Then tossed in on our piled up past
We gladly bid goodbye,
While in our hearth, with one big blast,
Live flames of love leaped high,
Just like a phoenix funeral pyre
You can’t contain or douse-
As we fired our heart’s desire
By burning down the house.