AND YET THE CANDLE BURNS

The night is spread over the valleys

Like a dark blue shawl covering

 The day’s smiles and miseries

And in her heart there’s just a candle burning

Carefully surrounded by passion to live

yet alone…

In her mind cynical are the thoughts

That she is left to live alone

In this city of towers and smoke

That she is not wanted among the hills and waterfalls—

Her abode just a little while ago.

Wordsworth in her heart quotes,

“She dwelt among the untrodden ways

Beside the springs of Dove

A maid whom there were none to praise

And very few to Love.”

But erroneous she is at such times.

There’s one who walks with her

On the path of darkness searching for a light—

The candle that never blows out in the west wind,

That burns amidst all strife

That candle that still burns in her heart.