Tamped and Banked

Tamping the fire
I banked it
Against the stone
Of the old fireplace
Then sat to admire
The dimming glow.

Somewhere in the night
I would check the embers
Insuring there would remain
Sufficient heat
To restore the flame
Come morning.

For now I visited ghosts.

Ghosts hold an inner heat
Tamped and banked
By time
And restlessness.

In that receding golden glow
She appeared
Clad in the dark blue dress
I always admired
The one with white polka dots.
Long hair swept
Behind shell-like ears
A smile played
At the corners of her mouth.
We never required much conversation
Finding better use for lips.

How real are phantoms!
Hands gentle on my flesh
Her long auburn hair
Spilled around me.
Her body moved gently
Beneath the silky fabric
Undulating and insistent.
The vanilla aroma
Of her favorite perfume
Aroused me still
Though I’ve not experienced
Its seduction in years.

Perhaps she came through
Dream portals
Or maybe ghosts are real
Unbidden or summoned
By flagrant desire
An unsatisfied compulsion.

Whatever space she attends
Perhaps she manages a fire of her own
Tamped and banked
Patiently awaiting a renewed blaze
When the rose of dawn
Blushes the eastern sky.