How Does a Lamp Post Feel

It’s cold outside tonight. Just rounding seven o’clock. My friends have left and I’m stuck in a what seems to be eternal incandescence that encompasses my willowy form. I am so tall, it is as if the tree tops speak to me. Their leaves tapping my shoulders looking for questions carried by the wind. And I? I stay structured, securing the perimeter with my watchful eye. Sometimes this job gets tedious. As time flies by like the geese in the winter I sulk. But monotony can be beautiful, I’ve seen things that would tear these sleeping houses to shreads. And things so treasured and special I question my indecision. First kisses. Dead pets. Sunrises. Sunsets. You can call me a hero for lending my light. A suburban legend brought to life. And when light is dependable once again, and it’s time for me to take a rest. I’ll stay planted in the ground like an artificial oak and soak in vitamin D. I will dim my being and dream of the beach. I’ll dream of providing hope for lost sailors. And see more of the midnight eve.