A Candle
A candle
left untouched on the shelf,
forgotten among brighter things.
No one reaches for it
when sunlight hides the dark,
or when the lights turn on.
Only when the wires snap,
when the room goes dark,
do they search for it
desperate.
It burns for them,
soft and steady.
But even then,
the end is the same:
the wax melts
giving all it had,
and yet, they forget
since they needed it
only for a moment.
Copyright © Arshita's World of Poetry | Year Posted 2025
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