The orange flame gutters, and it goes out
not knowing what the story was about.

Prison bars cast their shadows on the bed
for a sentence ended and words unsaid.

The guard looks in, a twinkle in his eye,
left—as we are—to wonder and to sigh;

that the light gone out won’t come back again
to hear the tin cup clamor till the end.

# # #

In Our Cups by WC Roberts
originally published November 1, 2010