A Candle Burns On The Mantle Poem by Mark Heathcote

Candle burns on the mantle; in red glass
it flickers like red-hot winter coals
it'll be autumn soon with searing casseroles
it'll be winter with frozen toes, alas.

But-here-the-candle flickers are the last
embers of summer; my fiftieth all told
I wonder how much more will-be-surpassed
I'll amass before any more springs withhold.

Springs a passage of rights that we've survived
I'll enjoy this night with a Malbec wine
I'll not curl up my toes, yet I feel too revived
but I will lay on my back writing supine

I'll look out the window to see the stars
I'll climb into bed in my lover's arms
and dream of a candle, a fire in our hearts
that never has seasons, never has these qualms.