top of page

Candle Light

runs through quilt, a finger

dipped in tallow, a midnight

conversation waxing, waning


by its flicker you write

by your pose I see you asleep

eyes closed, silent as cloud pillows

day departed breathing into dark

tomorrow yet an unborn glimmer


slipping beside you, I feel a page

turn, a pencil scrape, then slumber

overtakes me and in the morning

a sense of baking fills the air


fragrance of phrases and stanzas

warm from the oven of your night,

ingredients you gathered on walks

wild flowers, birdsong, flush of

fruit on bough, blessings


of seasons coming and going

all there upon your page, your fingers,

your smile, your golden hair

lighting my day until candlelight

claims us both back into its arms

To Go Back To
Hit your browser's

© Johnmichael Simon



bottom of page