What is left?
For the only light that shimmers are fragments of memories
Memories…from the candle that fell dim long ago…
The dried wax its tears….
And the smoke? The ghost that haunts me even now…
I see it…the rose that once sat on the table…
That bloomed as if for birds to see and no one else
Forgive me…
For I am man…and as such blind…
Ignorance and shame….
Both of which I know too well