Candles of the moon she gave me,
Smouldering gently not ignite,
Glowing slowly through their substance,
Never dazzlingly bright.
Burning into fragrant matter,
Leaving but a perfumed void,
Never lighting up our features,
So to have our dreams destroyed.
Staying warmth to linger longer,
Not to flame like flash disperse,
Leaving us to mingle and
In each other’s self immerse.
Glow tips in a crinkly wrapper,
I to pull them one by one,
Then to light them and remember,
We are back where we begun.
Copyright ©2001 Tony Crisp