I have at hand an item of wick and wax
And I fear I'd be mighty lax
If of its merits I didn't extol
Of its ability to lighten one's soul

In its flame's simplicity
When there's no electricity
With its wick it provides light
So no one is without clear sight

The illumination allows one to read
And find one's way when in need
Of answering nature's call
Protects you from a stubbed toe or a fall

This item has one flaw that causes rage
When many lit shows someone's growing age