The demon's eyes were red, but not by light of burning flame,
two spheres there floating in the dark, with hatred none can tame,
and I, a frightened whelp, beset by terror at the sight,
recoiled in my chair while reaching for the candlelight.
I held the waxy shaft betwixt me and the demon shade.
It quickly leapt backward as though I had unsheathed a blade.
A little light, a little faith, and it was gone like smoke,
and quickly fore the thing returned, I from my seat then broke.
Never will I forget that night when I fought off the dark,
nor will I soon be found without a match to quickly spark.
The shadowed memory reminds me to this very day,
though small and flickering, a little light can make a way.
Tale Told 