A couple sits by a fireplace, but the warmth doesn’t reach them. The flickering flames become a mirror for memory—unsteady, restless, impossible to hold. They feel like shadows, brooding and watching, trying to find their own reflection in a stream that no longer exists. That “non-existent stream” suggests a lost past, maybe a relationship that has drained away. The clock is the only witness, turning moments into ghostly, mournful music. Cold memories wrap around them like a shroud. They cannot speak; their faces turn away. Even when the firelight catches their faces, it only shows more flames burning and flickering—emotion still alive but isolated. The mood is quiet, haunted, and lonely, full of grief for something between them that has become ghostlike.
Ghosts — Summary
Flames flickered in the fireplace, As memories on the hearth of life; Two shadows we, watching, brooding, To catch our reflection In a non-existent stream.
The ghost-witness of it all, The clock brings its proofs; Moments melt into moments, Like notes of sad music, Like a white cerement.
Cold memories shroud our life; Speech flees before this; Faces turn away from each other; The fire throws light on them; There, too, flames burn and flicker.