The warmth inside…

There is no beating that central heating
If peripheral warmth is your need
But there is no warmth like love-filled warmth
Where two hearts harmoniously feed.

And when long Summer days in sunshine
In laughter in daft lover’s games
Are snapshots then taken of moments
And placed in keepsake gilt frames.

Frames they now view in their Autumn
Of perhaps the best days they recall
For as time marches forward regardless
They seem in the photos, less small.

Until one day there is then only one
And the central heating is switched on
As the one left behind now tries to keep warm
And the ticking clock of life moves along.

© Joe Wilson – The warmth inside…2016