wind

The Beautiful Answer

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I wrote a poem earlier, titled The beautiful Question, and since the popular consensus was to give it a particular interpretation… This is a sequel…

 

Dusk has resumed his shift
But my brave candle light
Against the wind-aided night
Flickering it unsteadily
Swearing to put him out,
Puts up a noble fight

But it doesn’t bother me
With thoughts on my mind,
A departing guest before my eyes.

To set your mind ablaze
Is to wonder,
To quell the flames
Is to ask her.
Is what my friends told me.

But how do you ask one
Rightly titled one of
The beautiful things in life
With the hoarsest voice in life?

So on a plain paper patch,
I wrote the beautiful question
Passed it to her and waited
She read it and smiled, answered it,
Passed it and then took her leave.

I mumbled a soft goodnight
A warm smile on my mind.
I held the paper in my hand,
The words still converging on my eyes
But the night windly smiled in victory
As my candle lost the fight.