Soft glow of candlelight, I trace your name, Your laughter drifts through castle halls, untamed; Though my hands are aged, my heart still burns like a blue fame, In every whispered silence, love I’ve claimed. Through corridors of memory I roam with flame, Echoes of your voice call out across the frame; Walls shift and sigh beneath this ancient spell, I gather up your warmth where shadows dwell. I watch your shadows stretch across the floor, Fear and beauty tangled in what we endure; I stitch your wounds with kindness, heal more, They say that the best blaze burns brightest, Even when circumstances are at their worst. Hope rising gently where despair seemed sure. You hand me colors from the moving sky, Each hue a promise time cannot deny; And under the moonlight Love lingers softly, older than our fears. The castle hums, its gears begin to dream, Doors whisper softly, shifting in between; One opens to the sea, one to the stars, One to the field where lost hearts are. Calcifer sighs, a soul wrapped in flame, His sparks spell truths no lips could name; He laughs, and every ember seems to say, “Even the broken burn their own bright way.” And I, still old, still young, still half a dream, Speak love into the spaces in between; Where moonlight drips on porcelain and bone, And every curse becomes a beautiful home. For magic isn’t what the witches claim, It’s the tender hands that call your name; The quiet strength to love, to mend, to stay, When every door could lead away. And when dawn breaks soft to touch your tired face, And I stand beside you, quiet in our special place, I know these fragile moments craft our tether, “I think we ought to live happily ever after.”
This was written as a creative supplement for October’s Florilegium installment, Howl’s Moving Castle. Enjoyed reading this poem? You can submit your own as well — click the link HERE to register as a volunteer and earn service hours from your contributions to The Petal Press!