Smoke and sunset

Holding the ashes,
Of what once was,
Woodsmoke,
Memory of winter fire,
Leading me home,
With burning face,
Numb hands in mittens,
To warm soup,
Fresh bread from the oven,
Butter melting,
Hot molasses milk,
To drink slowly,
Siting by the fireā€¦
And now..
Sifted in the wind,
Blows the burned remains,
Of childhood memory,
Invoked once again,
By the danceing flame.