it was the candle-flame
burning the wax low in the night
showing the long shuffled way
down the lingering stone path
to the old sycamore tree
which nearly eclipsed
the roses
that had been so neatly planted

the palpable marble benches
stood waiting for all
who wished to contemplate
the night sky
and what it brought to mind

it was the candle-flame
burning the wax low in the night
that was set down on a bench

the casualty of contemplation
is losing the mystery of questions
she thought

perhaps
it might be better to sit watching
as the candle-flame slowly burned
the wax low in the night