The Candle

Forms of dim lights, in just a flicker. Sparks of blonde gold, an orange bronze and the rush of ruby red, smearing in all just a single glance, melting a bar of wax in the shadows off of each tall dark wall. And the rain- so gently heard from in, And the darkness- defeated by the scarce lit light breeds this night a horrific turn, but I stand so bold to watch the candle cross from new to puddled pool grown old. I rest my head against my mama's breast, and sure enough before the morning rise, I was put to comfort in all a good night's rest.