November Fallen

With attachment to detachment
wielding sparks at cold fingertips
that would rather stay in pockets, looking for warmth only found in the fire
that singes, makes the hand flinch
retract, return to the dark and known.

Under candlelight one can see their breath in this cave that once sheltered
now, only bars.
the flame flickers under its own weight and leaves no embers
only pieces to pick up to kindle
for next time.

Sink in to the cave, down into caverns- deeper. darker.
Stalactites that scrape and hang over us
If only they weren't so poignant.
The light is just a faint sunset
the eyes accustom to the dark and now I can clearly see
I am alone.