Gentleman's Evening

The fire and I are older than friends,
set opposite to one another long ago.
Holding the glass up the light bends,
telling answers only whiskey can know.

evenings as such drag on into the night,
with staring matches between two fools.
hazy thoughts snapshot memory to flight,
and firelight fingers become rusty tools.

Wood cracks in the background of strings,
notes  now ringing discordant from tears.
Betrayed by beverage the sharp sound stings,
so I lift the pedal until the final echo clears.

silence swallows my song in the flames;
the equal adversary withstanding my cold.
moving pictures slow to the final frames,
close enough to bruise but too far to hold.