Oh, to be a drop of wax from a young candle,
But in this case, the young don't belong in cradles.
With a shortening lifespan and decreasing height,
If you could, I know you'd be given a fright.
There's a lingering thought of saying goodbye,
I panicked, how could I be left alone with the darkness of the sky?
The candle now seemed like a precious treasure,
Each drop upon my skin, resulted in pleasure.
One little drip of molten wax,
Was all it took to help me relax.
Just a drop on the skin,
A single layer of wax thin.
The slight sting was an escape,
A hero - without a cape.
I was no doubt saved,
From the seemingly endless darkness of the cave.
A single drop of burning wax,
A coping mechanism free of tax.
Watching trails of wax running in lines thin,
And never having to worry about scars upon my skin.
A single drop of molten wax,
Ran down my hands as I tried to relax.
The darkness was swallowing me whole
And the candle was about to be out cold.
There'd be no more wax,
For a distraction and to help me relax.
Not a single drop of molten wax was left
And I was left panicked and bereft.
YOU ARE READING
recollection.
PoetryPoems written by yours truly. From points of view that aren't always my own. They're all written by me, just written about different perspectives. Please dont claim these as your own... Trigger warning: One or more of these poems contain mature co...
