The Candles

The candles count the years, but not the light.
Some stars still shine when hidden from sight

There’s laughter in the wind, beyond control.
An imprint on the soul, but I cannot hold

The grey skies came without saying goodbye.
Today it rained, so we remember the sky.

Published by Smith Shine Poetry

I am my poetry, my poetry is me. I pray what I believe. I believe what I pray.

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