Fireplace

What for that heart that heeds the eye
When you behind this window spy
Perhaps on some other cold November night
All my warmth in hiding, with streaks of sight
Under cold ash, and coal, and dying tree
Lighting shards that will stab when broken free?
This then for yours which, passing by,
Stopped, and came close, and chose to see
Instead of embers that will fall to sleep
Only a fire that’s buried rather deep.