The lamp went dark.

The last drops of kerosene

felt unwanted and evaporated with a

lonely silence.

The flame,

once strong and bright,

grew dim & small & blue &

left with a suicide of

black, black smoke.

.

And the man

– whose eyes once sparkled gold

in the generous lamp's light –

caressed the dusty glass

feeling the heat of life

fade away &

the cold grip of death

gain control.

.

He wondered

if the lamp knew…

Oh, how the man would've bought oil

if only he could've afforded it.

But money means naught to

dead men with nothing to leave behind.