In the City

i saw him sit in darkness but he refrained from the final slip, for the city was so bright in the window and light touched the sill like angel fingers on his cheek, and he desired the dainty dexterity to touch him last. The cars, little lights, living their lives, lasting as long as the length of their mechanisms permits. I felt him feeling the fingers of millions of lights, blinking and flashing until their fire fades finally. In the reflection on the window, he saw a light; he smiled, Blinking, flashing, and beaming in the city.