The Candle Gleams

The candle gleams
through the hush of the black
interrupted only by the excitement
of my little girl unaware of the suffering
that a blackout causes.

The candle gleams,
my mind races back to the war
when I studied by such light,
night after night,
interrupted by the terror
of a girl aware of the suffering
of when the bombs fall.

I touch gently her cheek,
draw her close onto my lap,
surround her with the love
that reminds us both
of the bond which only exists
between a mother and her child.

I touch gently her cheek
and pray that all her life
the limit of her pain and misery
will be a cold picnic dinner
when the lights go out.