Candle

Flames flickered as the candle’s light Touched the chilling breath of night Shadows danced around with no sound Bottle of ink filled with nightshade Sleeps under the moonlight A quill soft as a dream is held by a figure half immersed in darkness Waiting for the elixir of thoughts As the clock struck twelve With great haste the figure dips the quill in the nightshade And jotted something on a piece of paper Under the candle’s light words are born out Oh! Candle tell me how many people have written history under your might Honorable Mention in: Your Choice J Poetry Contest Sponsored by Brian Strand