Accumulated Defense

The fire has fallen on itself, the earth beneath my back is cold. I could get up to build some heat, a firm foundation still remains in coals that glow with ghostly flames. Yet I have been alone too long to ever believe a midnight fire could compensate for what is lost, my only warmth against the frost that I have gathered to my bed like one in unfamiliar woods gone out to initiate the spring. I've had a little bit of good I gathered to myself for wood and if a shoulder grows too chill I know life means me no great ill and no one is here to get alarmed if my cold I turn onto my warm and my warm I turn to heat the storm.