writing poetry

evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
as a white candle
have we no shame?
i love my life, but not too well
gone are the three, those sisters rare
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
it was the autumn of the year
he'd even have his joke
musing, between the sunset and the dark
who loves the rain
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
when the hours of day are numbered
from floor to ceiling