poewar paragraph to poem

Memories of a Campfire

One summer night in Pennsylvania,

after a cookout,

my middle sister,

my oldest sister’s husband

and I sang around a campfire.

While he played the guitar,

she held the book

and I held the flashlight.

We sang old folk songs,

one after the other.

The campfire reduced

to glowing embers

and the circle of light

became smaller

and weaker on the page.

In The Cat Came Back,

Old Mr. Johnson tried

to get rid of his little cat

until the whole world exploded,

but the cat came back.

I think of that singing session

with affection and some sadness

since my brother-in-law passed.

Memories are to life,

like embers are to a roaring fire.

Our souls are somewhat like the cat,

and for my sister’s hubby, life flames eternal.