Me the candlelight

I am but a meek candle light
Sleeping invisibly
Cradled deep within
The shiny brass candle stand
Upon the wooden mantelpiece
Right in the centre
Of the decorative room
Almost like a firm fulcrum
To the entire universe.
I am like
A quiet observer
Sitting bored through my day
And often mischievously alive
by night,
Observing, nothing more
Than a few static movements
Of time and motion
Floating incoherently
In the everlasting drama
of our impervious lives.
I have my
spurious moments too
Drunk often
In the frivolity
Of saucy gossip
And then
like a pendulum
Swing dramatic,
So like the stoic grandpa clock
Tick tocking,
Keeping time and
A fearless watch
There right above me…
And within the depths
of affections
Of releases
Of carelessness
Of secret deft touches
( often beneath the wooden dinner table )
I float all around
Sighting everything
Yet nothing,
In full freedom of my
Flirtatious existence
I penetrate
I perpetuate
I punctuate
Every corner of
This majestic living room
With my audacious
Strength of burn
I then imperiously judge
Inmates and relatives
Young and old
Of many sexes
And more strangers
Who drop by weekends, to
and eye smartly
the aging single malts
( Stored neatly
In an affluent corner
Right opposite boring me..)
And with the desperate glee
of a thirsty survivor
Crossing life’s dry desert
Of an endless sorrow
They gulp.
And then often
I add myself
to the subtle evening’s ambience
With the warm incandescence
Of my burning wick
i try
and offer
Some more
Reflective romance
to the existing
Chords of a dying melody
Of an everlasting waltz
Floating magically
from the century old broken piano
reverberating effortlessly
Besides me.

The evening seems nearly complete.

And all I need to do now
Is keep burning
( and not melt in the weakness of the perfect moment )
Till the music dies too
An untimely death, and
As the complete romance fills every air
In the fullness of the night.

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