A red wisp upon a stick of wax
Constantly twisting and shriveling
Until one day it simply
dies out
Are there any ashes to prove it was ever even there?
Can anyone still see the fading smoke in the air?
Has the wax already become solid once again?
Was there ever a candle to begin with?
It has left no charring black mark upon the wall
All the heat has waned into a blistering cold
No signs of any previous light amongst the dark
The burning smell has already gone
Perhaps
It was never even there
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Author:
poetboy123 (
Offline) - Published: November 5th, 2017 16:56
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: winternightsky123
Offline)
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