I remember that day, when they took you away, but you promised to always return,
You said, “Light this candle, bear what you can handle, I’ll be back before its last burn.”
Layers of soot cover every square foot of the walls that witnessed our passion,
The flame fell weaker, hopes dimmed bleaker, and memories of you turned ashen.
Unwilling to settle, I replaced its pedestal, and gave all suitors my refusal,
Wax bled to the floor, survived both World Wars, but we smolder to dust at your funeral.
I‘m so grateful that you took the time to read my piece for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the radiant Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. With ninety-one words, I felt the best way to tell this story was through poetry. I truly hope you enjoyed my piece, as I warily crept beyond my comfort zone to write it. If you find the time, give the other fictioneers a good read. You’d be amazed at the variety of stories that branch from each prompt!