The flame of the candle can only melt the wax so quickly, like brie in a cocoon of puffed pastry in the oven.
A slow, patient drip of time as the seconds go past on the clock of human speed.
The coffee percolates slowly after a night of champagne and memories of being slapped by your mother when you were pregnant. A memory of a time when engagement rings were mocked because the small size of the diamond and husbands were ranked by handsomeness.
The candle of remembrance doesn’t forget the birthday of an eight-year-old self that didn’t deserve a party.
The memory bracelets now circle the wrist of happier times to be had with bigger beads and hopes.