By Candlelight
Bare attic, stark board, the poet
scratches.
By candlelight verse to lament the
love
Of his past reason to live
This life of barren sand
Like one half a lone white dove
Wax drips low upon oak so worn
No pennies left, candle to replace
To finish his tryst to his,
lovelorn
The dimming dying flame, her only
face
©
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