Another poem for my readers

This little light of mine

Cold wet finger and thumb
Close around my flame
Killing the light of my burning wick
Squeezing relentlessly like death surrounding the neck of a swan
Pursed grasp causing the delicate neck to bow and brake
Holding on until the last hot puff of heat is released
Whispers of smoke fill the air
Soul floating
Faint whimper of the last sound
Until silenced.
S. Simon
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