Back to the Candlelight

He was coming for her,

coming,

coming,

down the old stone bridge.

She was waiting for him,

waiting,

waiting,

inside her dark cottage.

The cat watched her,

watching,

watching,

silently sitting by her.

The candle she lit was burning,

burning,

burning,

light shining for him.

But they were approaching,

approaching,

approaching,

steadily coming to him.

But they were diverted,

diverted,

diverted,

by her old black cat.

He ran to her,

running,

running,

as fast as he could.

Her candlelight was fading,

fading,

fading,

slowly sinking lower.

The moment the candle was gone,

gone,

gone,

he knew she would not come.

He left her with her candle,

left,

left,

not knowing she was hoping.

She never saw him again,

never,

never,

but always lit a candle.

He could find his way to her,

finding,

finding,

by looking back to the candlelight.