patricklynn

A candle in motion,

flickering in the wind

as I walk about.

It is a signal,

a call to those looking.

A light house.

Tall and mysterious I burn.

As I turn flames dispurse

then reemerge.

Never will the flame die.

Never will I dye the flame.

For it I am not ashamed,

I'm proud

of my glowing red mane.