Candle whose light burns bright
Amid the darkest veils of night
Cast upon me your warming glow
So that your beauty might yet show.
Candle's flame which seems so fine
Issuing sweet scents of pine
A calming presence to those who care
And who find happiness when you're there.
Candle standing tall and strong
I know eventually you will be gone
As I watch your wax run down your side
your determination is a thing of pride.
Candle, dawn has arrived beyond those mountains
A faint light is slowly creeping past the curtains
You're free to wink out and your flame to die
But this will not be our last goodbye
Poetry is different from fiction. It has its own way of inspiring and moving people that fiction alone cannot accomplish.
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