Photo by Ioana Motoc on Pexels.com
Pebbles pelt and words welt,
these weapons came worst this last orbit of the sunbelt,
in the sweltering storms I feared I’d melt
and my wax armor felt
like an old wizard’s shielding spell
about to violently quell its quaking self
but inside the dying candle wax
I wore velvet
and I danced
like nothing could touch me
even if it dared
to burn me free.
***
Happy new year, here’s to taking on new things even if they sometimes hurt.
Another poem about a candle
Jordyn Saelor 