Sunday, February 20, 2011

candle

a wick can never drink its fill.
once set aflame, it pulls and pulls
on hot wax until
there is none left within reach.
then, when all hope is gone,
it sputters like a drunken man,
dying,
up in smoke.

3 comments:

  1. oh my, i love your imagery. i love how you write. is it as effortless as you make it seem, i wonder?

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  2. Beautiful. This reminds me of a saying I read once: While I'm useful, let me burn. Glad to be part of the gel-pen sisterhood :)

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