When we had the fire

A piece written in response to a couple of different prompts... homework and Writers In The Bath

Here it is,

a silent circle

branded into earth,

a bruising of ash,

soft grey and sodden

amid the rosebay

and the ragged robin,

a remnant of the time

when we had the fire

to burn the past,

yours and mine:

shoeboxes of letters,

cards, photographs,

that catalogued our several lives

before we met.

And here we came; our pact

to purge these pasts, 

seal wounds, heal scars 

and here, that dewy May evening,

with the solstice still to come,

we coupled wildly under stars.

While now years on,

and with our child in tow,

I stumble on the place again.

We had searched with sticks

for snails and jewels and sprites,

among the ragwort and the mossy damp;

now chased cranefly tumbling

through unruly nettles;

while you spread laundry

on the clothes horse drier.

But this was

the place

I know

when we had the fire.