Birches

They sat at each end of the couch
Watched as the fire burned down
So quiet on a winter night
Not a porch light on for miles around
And he said, "I think 'll fill the stove
It's getting time for bed"
She looked up, "I think I'll have some wine
How 'bout you?" she asked, but he declined
"Warren," she said, "maybe just for tonight,
lets fill the stove with birches
and watch as the fire burns bright.
How long has it been?
I know it's quite a while.
Pour yourself half a glass,
and stay with me a little while."
But Warren, he shis head
as if she made some kind of joke,
"Birches on a winter night? No.
We'll fill the stove with oak.
Oak will burn as long and hot
as a July afternoon
and birch will burn itself out
by the rising of the moon.
And you hate a cold house, same as me,
Am I right or not?"
"Alright, alright, that's true" she said,
"It was just a thought"