Wick-ed
sensual fragrance,
held in suspended time.
Illumination dances
with freedom,
to the tango
of heat.
Heightened senses,
lick the once solid cocoon of
encompassing strength,
now turned to molten lava,
moulding softly with each
turn of the flame.
Slowly
d
r
i
p
s
of frustration,
k
i
s
s
cool marbled sanctuary,
once more laid
in solid rapture.
(Candles melting)









How brilliant! Well done, and good luck to you 
8 old applause
