By Red, redsrus2@excite.com Date: 14 February 1999
September 8, 1985 12:30am
The red candle burns slowly.
Like my love, it burns easily
and the charred wick is my heart
when the final breeze blows out the flame.
The red wax drips down the side of the candle.
Like my blood sometimes flows,
easily dripping into a puddle,
quickly cooling when the lonely wind blows.