Little Candle burning bright,

dancing on beeswax and lumber.

May it light flicker so after I wake from my slumber.

Her little blaze is gentle, warming me with ease.

I'll often hesitate to leave her alone, for fear of a coming breeze.

On occasion, the melted wax she drips stings my hand for maybe a minute or more,

but if the dripping ever stops is when I will really be sore.

Gollum has his precious golden band and I have a delicate little flame.

May neither air nor liquid nor candle snuff separate us, for life will never be the same.