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the candle

I sit by candle light
restless and empty,
there’s nothing left to write
my plate is dirty,
and cicadas sing the endless drone
of fading summer.

As I sit alone
cloths scattered around,
my mind wanders, ponders the ground
I tread without a sound,
breathing fire, the candle flickers
in the breeze unbound,
and I don’t really know what I’m doing
but that’s ok right now.

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2 thoughts on “the candle

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