The mantlepiece was a focal point, the reclaimed wood itself making a statement of love. And so upon it I placed the things that brought me peace, that kept my inner fires burning a healthy flame.
The mantlepiece was a place to put whatever brought you peace in this world, so that come the treasured black nighttime the soul could find its rest before sleep.
Upon the mantle, in the warm glow of the hearth, were photographs of family. It was right that they should be there, ever in our souls.
The mantlepiece was reclaimed oak, all the prettier for having lived its previous lifetime. Upon it was an antique clock, the kind that lasts generations and tells a story of softness with its curved wood.
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