Her!!

A bottle of red wine moved
her along, as she wrote,
I feel too much, again and again.

Her cloud pale eyelids falling on dream dimmed eyes.
She saw shapes of memory
standing solid in an empty doorway.
The old women were gone.
Staring the waxy smoke appearing
from the candles,
after being capped with the brass bell
at the end of the snuffer.
She could smell them, the odor of candles.
She could smell, grief;
being measured by counted darkness.