One ordinary Thursday,
Crisp orange leaves hovered about;
Squirrels are gathering food in array.
 
I had sat inside,
Cocoa on the nightstand,
My phone in my hand.
 
Then, in comes my aunt,
With a little candle encased in green,
Grinning like I’d never before seen.
 
She says it’s an offering for me, 
And so I accept, placing it on my dresser,
light it with a match, and watch it flicker.
 
As it burns, I take in the smell:
Powerful, yet firm.
Sweet like caramel.


 
And so I let it sit,
Sitting upon my dresser,
As the flame continues to stay lit.
 
Time then passes…
And passes…
And passes…
 
All the while, the candle,
For as long as it can handle,
Remains standing, still lit.
 
Although, its fuse now going short,
Its fragrance running low,
The wick trying to stay aflow.
 
I look into the melting wax,
Now taller and sharper,
Tired, but prospered. 
 
I breathe in its scent,
Just one more time,
Taking it in as it exits its prime.
 
Somber, but pleased,
I watch its last moments,
with a strange sense of glee.
 
Soon,
The flame finally extinguishes,
And I exit my room.