There’s something brave about them,
flapping in the wind, but holding on –
reflections gleaming on wet tarmac –
the double dark of street and sky.
Gallant, I think. Old fashioned words
for something bold and charming –
even though I know the man
who hung them there, and he’s
not dashing. Not a man to bow
and ask you if your card is full.
Just one quadrille?
But something in him craves
these twinkling lights, so small,
so delicate. So brave. They keep faith
through all the darkest nights. They shine.
I’m hosting at dVerse tonight. The lights are on! Check us out.