The Flame Of Youth

Flames of youth flicker and threaten to wither,
How could it be that they could ever burn out,
They were lit the day you were born,
And you never suspected that you would ever feel old,
But there is little wax left to burn,
And without a splint you’re stuck there,
With a stub of wax left for a flame to burn on,
One that has fallen from a majestic blue to a withering red,
And yet it feels right,
The years flew by and time played its tricks on the mind,
You could have sworn that the flame was eternal,
But as you grew up in the real world,
And the flames were snuffed out on so many,
It became clear that even yours had its limits,
And when your heart began to jump your flame felt the rain,
It flinched and hissed in resistance,
But you knew that it could not intimidate the oncoming storm,
And as the grey clouds grew more prominent ahead,
You could have sworn that your flame once had a shelter,
But it was there no more, you knew that much,
So showers battered the flame until it was barely a spark,
But it survived just the same,
Clinging on to life,
Forcing that last stump of wax into use,
For as long as it could,
For that short promise,
Until the candlestick was the one that would burn,
Or until there was no oxygen left to fuel that flame,
That whisper of youth,
The ghost of a life once barely lived.

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