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Jun 2013
On the day you were born,
Two Candles were it.
They were two very different towers:
One just a lump of discolored, black, wax,
The other a solid Construction of white.

Now it's your first day of school,
Two Candles burn.
They are still very different towers:
One a hill of black wax,
The other a Mountain of white.

High school rolls along,
Two Candles blaze on.
They are shifting, changing shapes:
One is a small house of blacks and brown,
The other is a Mansion of white wax.

Your wedding day has arrived,
Two Candles shine.
They are nearly the same hight:
One is a dandelion of black,
The other is a Sunflower of white.

The day has come to light new candles:
Two Candles for a new life.
They are with no similarity:
A puddle of black,
A Waterfall of white.

You watch their candles change:
Two Candles for your child.
They alter:
Growing black
Shrinking white.

And as you watch theirs, you loose track of your own.
Two Candles dying.
A Tower of black,
A mound of white.

You're on your death bed.
Two Candles flicker
Black grows strong with a red flame,
white shrinks with a small blue fire.

They lower you into Earth.
One Candle rages on.
Black - strong and tall as ever.
white is no longer.

They place your Candle
With the billions of others.
You name engraved in silver.
That's what you will be known for: a tower of black wax.
Carsyn Smith
Written by
Carsyn Smith  PA, USA
(PA, USA)   
1.3k
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