There once was a young flame; fickle and new,
And with every wish, it heated and grew,
Nearly melting all the wax through and through.
“Hey, slow down, you!” Warned the paraffin shrew.
Ignored, the wax thought “If only it knew”.
Yet with rage, the hot flame yearned to pursue,
Its wild orange dream of burning for two.
And so the fervent flame would not subdue,
Yet, indeed, the young fire did misconstrue,
And sadly, drowned in a warm waxy stew.
“Why do I bother trying to dissuade you!?
What I want and ask, you’ll never do.
Why, this lesson was quite long overdue!”
Cried the wax, now a lone, hardening goo,
Burying the extinguished wick she once knew.
By Enrika Beland