As The Candle Cries Poem by Reed Dietiker
As The Candle Cries
The weak flame burns alone
Goes all night till the wax is gone
Slides down the side to make a dry puddle
The wind blows it out if the flame is dull
The heat is so high its cold
Colors so bright, like looking at gold
The aroma becomes stong and thick
Skin feels calloused as the wax sticks
Over time heat cools and light dies
Its beautiful to watch.
As The Candle Cries
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/23/2024 5:11:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
