Evening fireside

I love to read your poems in the night
And see each sentence frame a new born thought.
I often am in darkness not in light,
Like yours my memories are hardly caught.

The cat sits in patient joy upon her chair
The fire glows golden red ,I watch the smoke.
And wonder why most  older cats still stare
‘Their amber eyes a passionate warmth evoke

The washing gurgles in the old machine
When  all my  winter garments meet the soap.
Is this true life or am I but a dream?
In someone’s mind, perhaps, my image floats.

Nothing is so sure in life as is our death
Enjoy the alternations of your breath