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.
Copyright © Brittany Martin | Year Posted 2008
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