Sitting Near the Candle Light

There is flickering candlelight, and I smile

My childhood is a burning flame

Burning summer days followed by still nights,

And then the hurricanes came


The first night is of nervous anxiety,

In restless preparation for the storm

So we count our water and candles

And feel cold breezes, once warm


The second night, and the storm comes,

Howling and screaming and loud

And the knocking of flailing branches,

Falling limbs, and strong oaks bowed


The third night is the second one without light,

But with a warmth that comes with a candle-glow

And we read Rutabaga Stories and play our cards

And the grown-ups talk, drawling and slow


The next day the power comes back on

And the streetlamps make the stars less bright,

But we will see their dancing majesty again,

Next time, stting near the candle light

The End

1,110 comments about this poem Feed