The Candle
As the candle burned and the old man sat watching and the thoughts
He saw it all so clear and as it passed through and the veil parted
Finally knowing was what counts and seeing them leaving one suitcase at a time
Sometimes the suitcase took six strong men to carry them, but they still did
Carrying is what the old man did because it was fresh and new and it was all he had
And the candle burning, in a cold room as he gathered himself with effort
They counted on him, all those he missed and believed he’d see again
He stirred his coffee, smoke curling around the cigarette and took a draw
He leaned over and with a quickened breath he blew out the lowered stub
The lone tear rolling down his reddened cheek as he carried himself into the darkness
He went into the diner and no one noticed or knew his name but his shabby clothes
He ordered , ate and paid and a tip. And carried himself with a shivered grace alone
Back in the darkness he remembered some closeness of friends and the departed
He made his way quietly home and with commitment lit the candle for those
The candle waited as did the departed and with practiced thumb flicked the match
Room now all a lit and glass in hand the man who was old bowed and silently waited
Felt a rapid thump and the lingering pain down his left arm
but worse than before
And in awe the old man watched candle burning down as himself and life
Tried to remember something but something could be anything and the candle
He remembered Jack, his brother, teaching him curse words and the candle flicking
Church,spitting on the bald guy down below and him coming up the stairs
We laughed as we ran down the other side and buying a soda and candy
The candle flickered and darkness overtook him as the pain overtook the heart
And he saw his Mother and she
Was young and beautiful and ran to him to hug him
And the candle slowly blinked out as did the eyes of the old man as a smile touched his face
Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2025
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