In the Candlelight

In the Candlelight​
​
the white curtains​
lifted once​
in the evening wind,​
settled​
like a thought​
unspoken​
​
a candle flame—
scents of gardenia,​
magnolia,​
Spanish moss​
drift through the room​
​
a voice
deep and tonal​
softly calls my name​
​
barefoot I run ​
across the bedroom’s​
mahogany floor,​
grasp​
brass handles—​
​
the door opens wide—​
​
your eyes​
in the candlelight​
​
D. G. Vachal © 2026​

Image by Melanie H.H. @pixabay