The root of the candle burns
down into the wax and glows
with lustre and light.
Our eyes shine with warmth
as it burns and burns
down into its grave of fuel.
Related Post
Two poemsTwo poems
A moment of unknowing I find my way to the bedand slowly nest myself between the sheetscareful not to awaken her sleep.Perhaps she dreams far from mewith people and places
Poetry Pot-PourriPoetry Pot-Pourri
Though he did not know it Though he did not know it the beggar who crutched his way up the middle of the road in the middle of the night
SereinSerein
From above, a drop, brief as a comma, spaced from the next by a breath of time not cold, not wet, a touch on the wrist and a sound –