Several whiles ago, a chandelier
was newly found, placed
by a Father in the daughter's room—Ruth.
Several weeks ago, a chandelier
was searched for, overpriced
by an Owner needing money in hand—Tony.
"Take it home," he said, "and see if
it can be fixed. I'll take $140.00
for it."
Several days ago, the chandelier
was relinquished, the price dickered
down to $50.00. "Sold," Tony said, but later realized I was searching
for something different than an old chandelier. He said, "Don't take it if
you can't use it and it doesn't work. It was overpriced to begin with."
I agreed, reluctant and relieved. But I think of Ruth and her finding
her chandelier
for her room several whiles
ago when her father hung
it for her. The room
was transformed, crystal prisms
and filament
fairy light.
She is married with a husband and sons.
She is cancer-changed and brighter than
anything I could find and hang or light
to remind me of her being What a love—a Lover
must, to remain a lover after so much changing.
She has always been a lover, Tim, her best friend knows.
I would like the candelabra, the Father's light in my room.
I have $50.00, but lighting candles hung From the rafters
will not keep another friend From dying.