A little boy in soiled dungarees
Stands alone in a night
Black as sparrow-fall.
The millennium city lights in the distance
Flicker beneath its concrete
And shine in the steel shawl.
The people amass in small groups
And amble to the ones
That left them astray.
The little boy looks at a mossy tombstone,
The first calling of All Soul's Day.
He places the candle on the soil,
The lantern-fire billowing
In a crisp, bleak breeze.
The wind swaddles up into the sky,
Put out the stars tonight, please.
Then the stars went out, one by one
And people walked away,
With arcs on mouth.
And all left was just one flamelet,
One flame that would not go out.
K. Jared Hosein
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/death-flamelet-of-a-mother/
