Candles

Tall waxy items
lit with sparks of gold
enchant the eyes
of a sorrowful soul.

Flicker, flicker, flare
the eventide beholds
the new moon’s
midnight rising.

Engraved upon the beeswax branches
is scarlet script by which
is found a solitary
crimson rosebud.

The once lively petals
grow weak and limp
next to the fiery stick
of molten wax.

The sad night wanders on,
enveloping the silvery shadows
within the burning clouds
of a white Hell and a red Heaven.

The cold flame of a warm memory
haunts the shadow
cast in the light
of a waning candle.