This Candle

 I am sitting here,

With darkness surrounding me,

This piece of candle is the only light,

And the pen in my hand illuminating the thoughts of my mind.

 

With every passing second comes the realization,

Slowly and steadily, time is creeping by,

Time that is never going to come back,

And neither will these moments, that are passing by.

 

Memories are but a mere note,

Etched on the walls of the brain,

To be recalled sometime in the future,

And bring a smile or a tear on one’s face.

 

The wax of the candle starts melting,

The flame shimmering still,

I move my finger through the flame,

And bear with it, the gratis pain.

 

The glass of water filled to the brim,

Resembles my own mind,

Emotions bottled up within me,

Which flow out in the form of tears.

 

The candle has come to an end,

But my words might never will,

Because with each new candle that is illuminated,

My poem gets a new beginning.

Reviews

[Adelia Alighieri]

There's this illusion when you write in the light of a candle...And I can see that in this poem.
I enjoyed the candle being melted. =D