Darkness.
When one is alone, hidden, forgotten.
I am a child of the darkness, the heat, the barren unforgiving silence.
I am but a shadow on the pavement beside your feet, the wind whistling past and rustling the leaves.
One born of shade and bred in darkness, uncaring for the light, the moon is my guide and I am drawn to her.
As if her pale glow kept me alive as the sun keeps plants.
The light cast by the street lamps gives off the perfect little show, just enough to see, but not enough to define.
But there I am, standing under the one that went out, waiting to be more than a shadow, waiting to be more than a whisper in the rustling.
I wait. Perhaps for her, to guide me as the moon guides me. Perhaps for them, to show me a path as the lamps show me theirs.
I wait for the sounds to be more than my haggard breathing and the scuffle of my shoes on the ground.
Tonight, like all other nights, I wait for you.