The flower full of splendid years
Is living proof our soul reveres.
Burnished by the sun,
The petals fall one by one
At year’s passing they reply,
“Will you make a wish, or shall I?”
The light is bright, not much akin
To brooding, quivering Theremins.
It burns orange, yellow in the night
Our ever flickering candlelight.
When words congeal and mind repairs
The weary world our soul compares
It never hears you call my name
Or sees you light my dandelion flame.
Till then my heart stands steadfast by
As my wish blows candle bye.
Juliann Budimir, 2016. All rights reserved.