Wax’n Wane

(for Ross... I wish you were here to Beta-read this)

Flick’ring candles
burning down in melted puddles,
guttering out too soon; eclipsing light.

Movement, strong breezes,
a single wafting breath of air is all it takes to dim the brightness.

Or, a final breath that brings forth darkness,
for the ancient stars to hide their twinkling glow;
a flutter of release, of invisible wings.

Emptiness

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 4 June 2020