Archived: Burning Cloth by Landen Shuey (Senior)

Author: Landen Shuey



A napkin? Or was it another word, probably lost to time

Yet another piece of erased history, soon before its prime

A candle blown out by the sleight of hand

An ashen cloth carries itself across the land

The spider caws, the crow weaves

Soon to be whispered slowly upon unbroken dead leaves

The candle slowly reignites

Aligning the spirits under the firelight

The napkin begins to catch its own flame

The spirits begin to play their own game

The burning cloth dries down to the bone

Losing its color, losing its tone

The napkin fades away into black

The ashen remains, excitement, they seem to lack

And the spirits dissipate unsatisfied

Never to return to the candlelight

Never always takes forever