They sat at each end of the couch Watched as the fire burned down So quiet on a winter night Not a porch light on for miles around And he said, "I think 'll fill the stove It's getting time for bed" She looked up, "I think I'll have some wine How 'bout you?" she asked, but he declined "Warren," she said, "maybe just for tonight, Lets fill the stove with birches And watch as the fire burns bright. How long has it been? I know it's quite a while. Pour yourself half a glass, And stay with me a little while." But Warren, he shis head As if she made some kind of joke, "Birches on a winter night? No. We'll fill the stove with oak. Oak will burn as long and hot As a July afternoon And birch will burn itself out By the rising of the moon. And you hate a cold house, same as me, Am I right or not?" "Alright, alright, that's true" she said, "It was just a thought"