I would like to direct your attention to the streetlight.
See how it glows, how it brightens the grimy alleyways?
Spikes and empty cigarette packages
float in it's honey-colored pools of radiance.
It is old; it has sat at this corner for many years,
watching the stop sign across the way.
The streetlight has seen muggings, it has watched lies slither
blatantly from smiling mouths. If it could do such a thing,
it would weep. It sports lost cat and laptop for sale signs proudly
but they are starting to itch.
And someday soon, the streetlight will go out.
It is a solid fact.
It is afraid of being blind.
And so, in this way, I wish to direct your attention to the streetlight
for all that is dark is soon forgotten.