Poised on a sharpened blade he balanced

Burning at each end, the wax became flame or smoke

Throwing light onto the faces of us who watched

Smoke stains on the ceiling, wax splashing to the floor

We held matches to relight the ends

When the balance tipped, we would gently stretch out our hands

And help it restore to the precarious equilibrium

Watching the candle burn shorter ever while

Watching the wax pool underneath

Wax soaked  into our shoes – we didn’t mind

The flame went out too fast

It left us with the memory of warmth and light

We hold hands in the dark