What the chimney shows the world,
we are in love.

Where the home sighs,
“Tis’ them fake coals”
When the coals go cold,
and our embers turn dark.

The mantel is relit,
the world glimpses back.
To see the dance and the held hands
before there are other chimneys for them to be.

When does the chimney puff the heartbeats
and lets them see
“The coals which breathe.”
Or it doesn’t.