The candlelight sweeps softly through the room,
Filling dim surfaces with golden laughter,
Touching with mystery each high hung rafter,
Cutting a path of promise through the gloom.
Slim little elves dance gently on each taper,
Wistful, small ghosts steal out of shrouded corners—
And, like a line of vague enchanted mourners,
Great shadows sway like wind-blown sheets of paper.
Gently as fingers drawn across your hair,
I see the yellow flicker of it creep—
And in a silence that is kin to sleep,
I feel a world away from pain and care.
Roads stretch like arms across the world outside,
Roads reach to strife, to happiness, to fame—
Here, in the candlelight, I speak your name,
Here we are at life’s cross way, side by side!
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