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Cinnamon Smoke


Sat on the mismatched dark wood dining chair: look to an unseen distance: stare, calm, wait for words that are looking for somewhere, for what is a word that is never spoken?
An absence, a nothing, unplaced.

A scented candle in a tumbler on the mantelpiece: a thing specific.
Waxy sputter, the last dance of a fat low flame, catches the reflective curve of glass, softer and softer as it shrinks; blue glimmer, red bud, glowing memento, dark wick, captured soot. Like any candle might, recognisable. This one leaves cinnamon smoke.






Comments

Susan Flett Swiderski said…
Hmmmm, nice. Cinnamon smoke. One of my daughters-in-law gave me a bunch of scented waxes and a gizmo for melting them in. The cinnamon in one of my favorites.

You created vivid images with your words. As always.
19 January 2014 at 05:12
Lisa Southard said…
Cinnamon is one of my faves too: for taste and smell. Not suggesting we should eat wax! :-)
19 January 2014 at 08:27
Heather Robinson said…
Cinnamon smoke. If I could bottle it I would spread it on my toast with butter. Happy Belated New Year Lisa!
19 January 2014 at 10:14
Lisa Southard said…
Happy Belatedness reciprocated Heather- cinnamon smoke butter- now I am wondering to to get that flavour on my toast! :-)
19 January 2014 at 20:25
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