Four Point Thirteen: Flickering Firefly

Lamp on a dreary night of a feverish vagrancy, may I latch on you as if you're mine for free? Perhaps I could say you're heaven-sent, spare me from this abysmal moment Deeply and darkly tinged I am blinded, while the storms persist you're my warm bed You might disappear along this dour weather, but these are the times I promise to remember We speak no words nor exchange glances, I'm just sitting down here taking chances and you're the light emanating above me, my relief as though I'm not a forsaken plea These are not coincidences I will reminisce, but one with fated interventions I will miss Flickering firefly clearing the hollow night, of a swelling cold and hazy foresight, would you still frequent my empty porch and volunteer to be my lifelong torch? -Nicola An