More than a delicate sconce, this candlestick
Is strength and weight,
Heavy metal, a safeguard against
Any attack.
Laughter echoes in the hollow
of its base.
Holding onto
The joy that spread
through
Shadowy nights,
With dance and song from the land
of Scots
So long ago.
This candlestick burns wax and
sparks the dampened lights
Held up by those
who dwell in murky corners, barely
Touching their hope.
But like an alcoholic who burns
sweet spirits,
That fire will dim.
Time has tarnished its metal and
loosened its frame but, for now,
the flame climbs high.
the flame climbs high.
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