Blue
The blue wax candle was yet to be lit,
But amongst the others, it did patiently sit.
Bought from a gypsy with magical powers,
She said of it’s lighting, it would bring showers.
Showers of truth, each flicker a story,
Of memories passing of how one feels sorry,
At this moment I shall light the wick,
Pour on the sorrow, stack them up thick!
Thick as the ocean’s list of mysteries,
Though thin as what would be my destiny.
Now I feel blue, just as beneath the flame,
A lifetime of misfortunes define my pain.
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