I wrote this poem on the way home Sunday night. It came to me as I was thinking about how I keep some memories dear to me, even though the heat of the moment has long since passed. I was reminded of a poem in a novel by Stephen R. Donaldson in his Thomas Covenant series. It was told by a Giant about how even dust is dear when it holds the memory of one who was there.

I honestly don’t remember much of the orignal poem, since it was a novel I read when I was a teenager. But it stuck with me, maybe even subliminally, so my apologies if I have too closely mirrored the orignal.

My hearth has ashes, embers cold
That must be cleared away
For soot and cinder careth not
For rising of the day
Yet e’en the dust is dear to me
From whence my lover lay