The Candle

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The candle’s dying flame,

Learnt of its doom,

Learnt that todays,

Its last day in the room,

It dreamed of things,

It hadn’t done or seen,

It winced in regret,

At what might have been,

It bewailed love lost,

And shattered dreams,

Thinking of it’s broken hopes,

To glow as bright as moonbeams,

It began to think,

Of it’s death to come,

And shuddered in fear,

The unknown was worrisome,

And amidst the thoughts and dreams,

And all the doubt,

A wind blew through the room,

And “POOF”

The candle was out.

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About saharsalman

Aspiring poet. Spectator of life. Words of Whim.
This entry was posted in Humour, Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Candle

  1. sethsnap says:

    Poor candle. šŸ˜¦ Wonderfully written. Maybe the candle lives on when the flame is transferred to another candle? Reincandleation? šŸ˜‰

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