Armchair

Cozy flames that flicker slow,
Leather worn and old and low.
The scent of ages passed long by,
The colors of a setting sky.

By the mantle, in an armchair,
Out the window, looking there.
Feel the fire, smell the memories,
Drifting in on nighttime air.

Dances long gone, colors born again,
As the sun skips down an icy sky.
All the places we’ve never been,
Staring out the window as life drifts by.

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