Ruins

The columns like half melted candlesticks 
With setting sunlight flicker, glow and drip, 
Growing slowly shorter until one quick,
Cold gust snuffs out the flames upon their wicks. 

The wax congeals in nearly shapeless bricks 
Around their bases; clouds of smoke eclipse 
The moon and stars; and statues by a trick 
Of shadows stir and part their frozen lips.