born to be
three candles, restive,
splutter
aimlessly, in dance,
enclosed in red,
filter gloom within
one room,
still’d, silent
sounds below the level,
water-fed.
reflective balls
upon a surface
sounding
pops invisible,
they rise to air,
mellow’d
three-times
flutter’d darkness,
oblivion observed,
I wander there.
no one touches like
the touch of water,
submersion soft,
a sensual
soporific haze,
three candles, struck from one,
a scarlet wonder,
ending sweetly
waxen musings
on a rainbow’d melted day.
