the fire is still lit
the sparks still sparkle
the candle is still standing tall
with driblets of wax dribbling down in drops
shaped like tears
the burning charred wick is crackling
the tip is still bright
the flame is still yellow
with orange
and blue
the smoke is still gray
ascending straight into the air
smells like an addiction
of calmness


© copyright, 1998

poetry
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