The candles are lit up,
Blow blow, blow it that way, 
As the smoke poisoned the air,
Poised for the rest and relaxation,
That caught the moth attention.

As you blew the candles,
The wax no longer dripping,
And it stop melting,
Hardening itself.

When the age rises,
the heart shall no longer be wrinkly,
Cos the flame runs out,
Brings the sadness away.

Stand taller like the candles,
Even it burns,
The wax are there,
To hold the memories,
And it makes you stronger.