In the darkest of corners,
a tiny yellow flame dances.
It yearns to leap
from its fragile wick
and singe the shadow…
aches to spread
the searing heat
which melts the wax
but leaves no trace
in the room cooled by indifference.

Cursed to burn each lonely night,
lit by a secret match,
its lonely unheeded glow
burns yet.
Steady.
Ready.