There’s a moment of darkness before lights,
Shining in blotchy patterns,
Glide back and forth,
across my unseeing vision.
I watch as the cars drift by,
At their lazy pace, their headlights on,
Going back and forth in the darkened skies
Of a stormy Sunday afternoon.
A weak light in the corner of my vision,
Blinking in all it’s tiny glory,
A great light shines and white, floating, outlines,
Drift away into the darkness.
The broken streetlamp on the corner,
Blinks on and off, as yet another truck,
Honks through my lazy Sunday,
Rattling it’s eyes open.