On a blustery night in a parking lot
A candle for Morgan was lit.
The light flared, but then the golden spot
Flickered like a wounded spirit.

But, just as the ember was dying
A neighbor raised his hand
Shielding the flame that was vying
With the wind that zealously fanned.

Then another candle appeared,
Touched its flame to the blackened wick
Once again, dripping wax seared
Down the sides of the paraffin stick.

But the wind was most insistent
And Morgan's candle desperately wan.
And fear that at any moment
The candle's fire-glow would be gone.

But, a crowd of one hundred grows,
Blocking the wind's gusty clout,
And each with a candle that glows…
Morgan's candle will not go out.

For Morgan Smith
by Peggie A. Foy
Copyright 3/22/1998