The Streetlamp

There it stood,

On the street leading to no where;

There it stood,

Lone as the bird that flies in a stormy sky.


Its light was dim,

Dimmer than the eyes of an unlucky mother;

Its pole was weak,

Weak as the plant whose leaves have withered.


Aware it was of its futility

For it stood on a street eternally empty

No man or beast would ever rely

On its ever-so dim light.

Though lonely as the bird of a stormy sky,

It stood untiringly, but never desired to fly.


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