The news came over you the way winter does,

like a wave crawling up your spine,

every goosebump a sign that the story

you lived by would soon come to its end.

The fire warming your heart makes way

for the embers and ashes,

for all that’s left, black scars and burn

marks, a house without a roof, memories

forever frozen in place. You’ll know

he’s gone when the silence

fails to settle.