shine or flicker above
the withering wick
below
is
where
the wind fickles as she likes.
she doesn't listen.
seasons may change
and fires die
but the wind pleases
till its time.
tickles and ticks
that child plays with tricks.
oh
it's not supposed to be so.
my dear
shine or flicker above
the withering wick
the wind says hello
shine like halo
as long as the former lives.
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