Reluctant Flame

The wick yawns slow,

touched by reluctant breath,

a flake of paraffin melting hesitant,

a pale flame sputtering in stale air.

Smoke curls soft, uncertain,

the scent of wax and old rooms,

dreams trapped in hardened drips,

waiting for warmth that’s hard to find.

Light trembles, a brief hope,

a flickering shadow on cracked plaster,

a glow stretched thin over silent walls.

And still it fights the dark,

small and stubborn,

like me, like this flame

that won’t quite hold.