Oak

Polished oak frames old papered walls
Delicate antiques sit where they belong 
Across the room fingers of a fire dance and draw me to the hearth
where rushing streams of memories fill oceans in my eyes 

Seems like maybe days ago when just a look meant things would be just fine 
Smell of comfort,  bittersweet corners soft with time

Above the hearth, a faded mirror reflects your picture over my shoulder 
Glancing,  smiling,  noting similarities 
all but my tattered jeans (which must by now mean something else completely)
I push the gray strands from my eyes and nod to you that things will be just fine 

Polished oak frames old papered walls
Delicate antiques sit where they belong 
They belong

Ambient jazz