Haiku for a Favorite Object

An 18th Century candle box

Yesterday, my nine-year-old daughter invited my wife and me to write poetry together in the family room. The simple act of creation (and the sound of pens scratching on paper) versus consumption was a revelation to all of us. As we completed our poems, we recited them for each other.

Among the handful of poems I completed was a haiku inspired by a favorite object in our humble collection of 18th Century antiques (shown at right): a candle box with a sliding lid that can be opened to reveal the tallow-crusted interior, which is redolent of rendered animal fat and conjures thoughts of a simpler time, when a crackling hearth (not a pixel-pulsing screen) was the heart of the home. For me, it smells of history.

Here's the haiku...

The carved candle box
contains a bitter lesson
history is smoke