No Fire

The long, thin ante room which faces west,
Is light in early evening and the paint
Of chalky pink absorbs the brightness, invests
It with a softer tone, showing restraint,
Teaching refinement to brilliant day.
There is no fireplace and so we sit
Around a little heater while we play
Each upon our own mobile device, it
Seems a friendly sort of silence but now
We never really have enough to say
And I'm so often writing, wondering how
To make my thoughts fit rules of form, I stray
Into a world of dreams and disappear
If someone speaks I listen but don't hear.