Dilantha Gunawardana

A candle
A flame on a pedestal
Sculpted in coats of alabaster wax
Swaying in a paltry mistral
She is as thin as cane, as feeble as glass
As white as coconut flesh
Yet she bequeaths tides of warmth
To a poor man's rundown edifice
A fountain of miraculous light
To the murky vacuity of shanty life
For she is a sorcerer of mirth from her blazing hearth
As two souls collide like twin cymbals
To play sweet melodies of an incarnate love
Guided by a chivalrous flame on a thread
As a 5 rupee candle metamorphoses
A lowly pauper to a prince of love