In the bright Caffé Concerto,
In a larger part of town,
I sit next to the doorway
And gulp my turkey down.
The wind outside is blowing,
Colder than the Devil’s grin –
And, while I sit here eating,
A candle burns within.
I followed a cute girl
From the train station beyond
Until I lost her at her job
Inside Lululemon.
I followed ‘round her tights
Among Christmas decor,
And now I’ve wandered here
To follow candle poor.
It flickers and it flutters
Upon my tabletop
Every time the doors are opened
I want to tell them, “Stop!”
But it’s not my call to make
To keep busy wicklings lit,
Only to hope it lasts as long
As I at this table sit.
Burn on, little waxwork, Burn!
Decorate yourself in drippings delight,
Bulwarks and buttresses constantly pour
Over heat-blooming stem, bud crimson flower –
The brighter you burn, the shorter you last,
And, though I admire your admirable task,
Cheering you on to brighten the gloom,
I’ll still blow you out when I’m done with my food.
Morning's Early Dark 