Ethel’s Visitor

Written for Wea’ve Written Weekly.
Our PoW, Judy, challenges us to write
a poem inspired by this scenario:

An old woman blows out 78 candles on her birthday cake, but one refuses to go out, no matter how hard she blows. It burns with a blue flame and whispers a name she hasn’t heard in 40 years. Our poem is her conversation with that candle. What does she decide to do: let it keep burning, or pinch it out?

Seventy-seven blow out like they’ve been told.
But one little bastard’s got his own plan.
Blue flame, flickering, absolutely bold ….
Ethel squints at it. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Stan.”

Because she knows that flicker, knows that flame.
It’s got his exact personality …. dramatic.
Refusing to leave a party, still the same.
Some things don’t change. Showing off. Erratic.

“You’ve got some nerve,” she tells it, “showing up
After forty years of total nothingness.
No call, no card, not even a little hiccup
And NOW you think you can intrude on my happiness?”

The flame just crackles, the same smug little jerk
Like when he thought he was right. She’d forgotten
That specific self-satisfied blue-lit smirk ….
So goddamn infuriatingly rotten!

She could spit on her fingers and pinch it out,
End the whole thing then and there.
“Fine. Stay a sec. But then adios, no doubt.”
She says, as if she doesn’t really care.

“Honestly, Stan. Did you think I’d be amused,
Barging in like this, no warning, oh so rude?”
The candle flickered on, unfazed, bemused.
She swats it. “Don’t push your luck, dude.”

She lets it burn through the “Happy Birthday” song,
Blows a raspberry at it, muttering “Show-off”.
Then licks her thumb, and …. decisively headstrong ….
Snuffs it dead. “There! Now we’re square. So long!”

NAR©2026
#W3

This is “Birthday” by The Beatles

W3 Prompt #225: Wea’ve Written Weekly

^{Everything on The Elephant’s Trunk was created by me, except where otherwise indicated, and may not be used without permission. Thanks for your consideration. NAR©2017-present.}