A little boy in soiled dungarees <br />Stands alone in a night <br />Black as sparrow-fall. <br />The millennium city lights in the distance <br />Flicker beneath its concrete <br />And shine in the steel shawl. <br /> <br />The people amass in small groups <br />And amble to the ones <br />That left them astray. <br />The little boy looks at a mossy tombstone, <br />The first calling of All Soul's Day. <br /> <br />He places the candle on the soil, <br />The lantern-fire billowing <br />In a crisp, bleak breeze. <br />The wind swaddles up into the sky, <br />Put out the stars tonight, please. <br /> <br />Then the stars went out, one by one <br />And people walked away, <br />With arcs on mouth. <br />And all left was just one flamelet, <br />One flame that would not go out.<br /><br />K. Jared Hosein<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/death-flamelet-of-a-mother/
