This year a very special gift was given to me, a personalised poem and some candles. Margot (pictured below with her Grandson, Marcus) has been a great friend to me over the years and her insight in poetry and all things Scottish have always been an inspiration. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you, Margot, for writing this poem for me.
by Margot Rhead (Scottish)
Bit by bit, pomelo wax melts above a low flame.
rises, hovers, warms, lingers;
drifts into unexpected corners.
I breathe it in; savour, for a while
those Christmas Memories.
Without warning, the small tea light
shudders, wavers, darkens, dies.
The burner cools; the wax hardens.
The burst of citrus redolence subsides.
Time and again, the same.
Remove the debris, replace the wax;
relight the flame. Then wait.
The continuity of … what?
Habit? Persistence? Uncertainty? Pleasure?
I reach for the balm of Christmas Rose ...
but choose, instead, the very last Mango Peach Salsa,
and strike the match. The fragrance comes and goes.
Then, jeopardized by draughts, it shivers, fades.
Pockets of spice refuse to leave.