Candlelight spills into my room.
It falls across your face and even mine.
It falls across your body,
Discovers you, your perfections, your imperfections,
Your hopes and aspirations.
The candlelight is soft, so forgiving.
The candlelight is warm, inviting.
When the morning comes, and the candle is through,
It already will have discovered you.
Now it is gone, the warmth is lost.
You are left in the twilight of early dawn.
Stripped bare, as sleep rushes in.
Now sleep my darling.
For I am here,
I am still the candle that burns within.
– Lindsey R Shapiro.
