at night holding nobody's hand.
I do not envy you, lovers,
curled around one another's bodies
a hundred years of good deeds
distributed in God knows how many lives
to bring you to share the same pillow,
to rest your fears in the same dream.
but I move stealthitly through
the quiet neighborhood
putting off the spark of hundreds of stars
for you, by lighting the streetlamps
then maybe I do.
(Shared with the Imaginary Garden)