A hard black thread projected few inches,
from the slender body of green complexioned wax,
standing tall and handsome in hollow cavities of curved metal,
firmly riveted to base in a pool of solidified liquid,
swaying mildly in the stormy wind,
blowing with full tenacity from the partially opened window crack,
oozing molten tears every passing second,
as amber flames licked its soft periphery,
diminishing in stature as time zipped in the wall clock,
beautifying the murky dull persona of the winter night,
providing paltry amounts of warm waves,
reinforcing frozen pores of skin with temperate heat,
the black wick thread now burnt in full light,
flooding the pitch dark room with galleries of pure candlelight.
I loved her as much as I feared to die,
she was all that life could ever offer me,
her laugh was as fresh as the new petals blossoming at dawn,
her body sparkled as the dewdrops born from the sweating grass,
Alas! she was no more inhabiting this room,
a tragic accident had snatched her far away from realms of this earth,
her enchanting whispers still flooded my eardrum,
I could envisage her fascinating smile all day,
her petite footsteps echoed in my dreams,
she now existed purely in my memories,
and looked more blissful than ever in the glowing flames of my light green
candle stick.
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