Birthday candle

In an old tray

Of assorted items

Nuts, bolts and broken erasers

Lies a singular candle

In all it’s plasticky-pink glory

It’s once white wick

Now a charred shade of grey

A pale memory, a shadow

of the day it glowed brightly

To a chorus of voices

Singing

Happy Birthday

It’s a keepsake from happy times

When choruses

could still come together

Bittersweet

like a love letter

I should throw it away

But I don’t