Make candles dance
they love to, just ask them.
It’s no hard task to make them,
which makes making them,
no longer making them.
They gleefully step on the floor,
hum tune, whistle even,
into the wee hours of morning
performing breathtaking displays
of charisma and elegance
and eventually
their light shines no more.
Wax has wandered
away in search of better form.
They decide,
you, for them, that is,
that extinguishing is the ultimate.


Burn out,
well, burned,
so they
may
ignite again.