Michael Edwards

AND STILL THE CANDLE BURNED

AND STILL THE CANDLE BURNED

 

When first she rose

by the light of a single candle,

she smiled a disparaging smile.

 

She loved him still,

though on her shoulders sorrow weighed,

worn like a flowing silken shawl.

 

Her hair now grey,

she wore so well her natures gifts

which providence had provided.

 

He’d uttered words

against the tenets of his creed

with deep regret upon review.

 

And she forgave,

as condemnation left her heart

and through it all the candle burned.