Fire and Tears.

To the rocking chair I slithered. In thought of love and death to which mortals render fearing. My eyes so token the fire molted, softly spoken neath the mantle bore. How a beast so tender with a morbid tenor, loathing fixedly in a slumber mixing, blue in glimpsing, yet red-fully glaring more. "Tis a lightly tone glowing warm" I muttered, "striking false in a staining number". Knowing its color I so stuttered, "why do I shiver without your fairing, without your glaring I'm blinded always more". Tears wither tearing, as a quelling tempted born a failures scorn ever wailing. Anger retorts, "Thou burns and twists by gentle touch! Thou light I adore nothing else can pour! Thou dreams and life ungotten, but never in me or never I'll be, forevermore!". The embers mused in a furious song silent but true: "broken" sung the embers gore, "broken" til ashes rested galore.