She waits for twelve more minutes,
Raindrops touching the glass windows.
She sits on a bench watching,
People wait for their chosen flights.

Beyond the glass pane she looks,
How the wind collides with the rain,
How he comes without a note,
Walking slowly towards her soul.

The rain continues to pour,
How every wish hopes to come true,
"Where do I go now?" she asks,
While he welcomes ...

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A spark lit up
A small, thin matchstick,
Gently rubbed from
A matchbox's wall.

Cursed at the fire
That burns a frail wick,
Drilled tightly into
Candle of false hopes.

Glimpsed the beauty
Of radiance and awe,
A fleeting light
To bleak, weary past.

The dancing flame
Slowly melts and hurts,
The paraffin
Where homeless hope lives.

It brightly shines,
As it ghastly burns,
Soft...

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