Maybe old emotions
are not like ashes,
but more like embers,
still pulsating with fire
and energy.

Once they were towering,
like loblolly pine trees
or 100 year-old oaks,
too high to scale.

Now they lie smouldering
in the hearth of my heart
cooling, dying,
but still emanating heat.

They self-ignite
on cold, rainy nights,
when in the chill
and loneliness,
I dial your number
and talk and laugh with you
until midnight.

Sonny Rainshine

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/late-night-phone-call/