The Wick Poem by Sara Turner

A shadow cast upon the wall,
Candles flicker, wax drops fall,
Silence is the only sound,
companionship is slowly found,
No photograph hang from a string,
But silhouettes the flames do bring,
Serenade to a lonely past
Is found behind dim lighting cast,
Alone but with a single pen,
To dwell on now and mostly then,
Dreams are made before my eyes,
As real to me as the open skies,
Things I'd love to live one day,
If only the visions don't fade away,
I live too much in days gone by,
The wick burns on, the flames just die,
The shadows fade, near darkness now,
Years have gone, I don't know how.