The candles and my brain
flame
like a torch
but not too much torch
feeling like a service
flames still
candles strong as steel
hold all feelings
in hope
a crack in the dark
a smudge of light
on the horizon
straining all over
the far of its reach
painting the walls
with unheard music
in a cold dark club
smoking drinking
the unfiltered water
and whiskey
climbing a sharp shifty
staircase
glistening with ageless time
wrapped in forgotten
rotten newspapers
Enjoyed.
A Roman Candle, exploding into the dark.
I guess something in me wants the title to be "I bought new candles" because I keep naming the poem that way in my head--something casual that delivers more.
Forgotten rotten is Shakespearean.
Thank you, Dianne. I like your suggestion.
Good piece. *