She doesn't light candles much anymore.
Too much tempting them with the glow of heat.
And she remembers the days
When candles felt like all that she had.
When the careful lighting of them took the place of nursing.
And gentle bathing, and sweet baby mouth breathing over her shoulder.
And she puts her hand just close enough to the flame
To feel it nearly scald her skin.
She will throw caution to the lost wind
And fall asleep with one burning.
She will hope that the waxy trails of smoke
Draws babies into dreams the world over.