There was no strength in flames
Until I saw her candle lit bright--
Wax dripping from the wick of the light.
It was as if her worries had melted,
Never coming close to closing the flame.
Yet she, naive as she may be, always worried
That it was inevitable, as it happened
To the people she surrounded herself with.
What she failed to notice was that
Her light was what was keeping the rest of us
From turning to the dark.