Dec 2018
Those floating candles.
Passing by
along those steady streams.
A burning incense.
Dripping wax
upon those vanilla sticks.
Puddles now at their lids.
Dried to a still,
past burns are seen.
Passing by
along those steady streams.
A burning incense.
Dripping wax
upon those vanilla sticks.
Puddles now at their lids.
Dried to a still,
past burns are seen.
Love poem.
My poetry/short story website: www.gothicsurrealism.com
My poetry/short story website: www.gothicsurrealism.com
