(Time to go home)
The streetlight was
outside my second-floor bedroom window,
about sixty feet away,
kiddy corner from me,
but right across from Packy’s Bar.
At night, it dimly lit my bedroom.
(I didn’t like the pull-chain single bulb
that hung from a chain in the middle of the room.)
There was another light
a block farther up on Main Street,
and another was down on Washington
where a traffic signal clicked
when it changed to another color (all night long).
It had to be late and quiet to hear.
I didn’t care.
When I pushed my bed next to the window,
I could feel and smell smoke-free night air.
I saw and heard street and sidewalk sounds,
I watched the glorious night rain,
and sometimes people who were quieter at night.
Summertime I could see bugs flying around the light
as I listened to the raucous people up at Packy’s.
The light was near enough
to work with my mind adding drama to boredom
as the nearby maple-tree limbs and leaves
silhouetted diabolical shapes and shadows.
That’s how I saw them.
Frightening then. Old friends now.
Along with rain, the streetlight showed me
falling snow or eerie fog on dark nights.
Streetlights comforted me.
Now, when I get up before sunrise, I look out
to see another lonely, bored streetlight father away
on a much quieter street with no bars (just houses with old people).
I recall the days when I looked out for the light to tell me things.
I still do.
Look both ways to see the light.
Mind the gaps, the bars, and the interesting shadows.
Watch people.
Our Literary Journey 
This is a special one, Bill. I love the way it ties together the past and present to reveal so much about who you were and are. Dale’s streetlight image is beautiful in itself–paired with your poem, it’s even more so. And as always, your gap lines wrap up the package perfectly.
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Thank you, Marilyn. 🙂
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I enjoyed this poem. The street light image and the imagination working with shadows are excellent.
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Thank you. I’m pleased that you liked it.
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Now that I’ve read this wonderful poem, I’m thinking of other photos that would have been good to go with! (And, just to be a brat, I sent them to you…)
I love how you have woven a part of your history around the street lamps of your life. I love lampposts of all kinds.
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Thank you, Dale. I am glad you liked it.
I wanted a residential setting with a tree, which your photo has.
But, yesterday I considered sending you the poem to see what you might suggest. Maybe I should have done that. I will look at what you sent (you are not a brat). I can change it out if another if better.
I was at the Lamppost Coffee Shop yesterday when I first contacted you. 🙂 Thank you many times over. 🙂
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I do, Very much so. And my photo was definitely residential (the street behind mine!)
I think things all worked out beautifully.
How funny is that? Lamppost Coffee Shop!
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🙂
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