By the Light of Candles

The wicks of candles but wither away

The fire crumbles and falls today

The wax drips downward, moonlit clay

But when the wax is a congealed pool

And the flame has gone to glowing jewels

Where the the ashes lay?


I grit my teeth but want to scream

When she tells me that my many a dream

Are just foolish hallucinations

Yet I know and shake with my anticipations

Of greatness and ambitions

Of belief and glorious premonitions

The only thing that keeps me from

Accomplishing glory is my rule of thumb:

Never run it by her

Or else there will be a blur

Of put-downs and turn-aways and insults, too

Such as, you’ll never do XYZ with your ideas all askew

But would it be such a shame to admit

That the ‘she’ is me, always telling myself to quit?


—  Ellen Cohn

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© 2020 Ellen Cohn