In Memory of Mary Jo

Wistfully
trailing smoke has vanished;
the essence of
its scent is
but a hint now.
The once entrancing
dancing flame is
extinguished.
All its warmth receded;
its molten journeys hardened.
Leaving a fragile charred wick
in vague evidence to the
flickering graceful dance
once made.
Oh, but to see
your glowing pirouette
just one time more.
Someday…
Someday.