The flame of the candle flickers and fades,
I've burned it till its end;
the chair beside me stands alone
- the moon lays heavy on my face -
your warmth still on its wooden surface,
isolated, out-of-time.
Pen on paper, page after page -
I write on this notebook
until it ends, then start a new.
One after another -
a candle after another -
you fill them all with words of memories.
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