There's streetlight outside
burning in the blue-black sky,
Standing on the pavement
with friends by its side,
They'll sway in the wind till morning
then flicker and die.
Only by the night
does a spark ignite,
Illuminating suburbia
in perfect half-light.
"In this silence I believe".

The streetlights are lonely
as they sway in the wind.
Their job is to **** the darkness,
Yet dawn signals their end.

Teenagers climbing streetlights
cause they like to get high,
Hanging from lamp posts
just to feel alive.
Ascend the mast,
Attain a heading,
Set sail and let adventure come running.

In the hazy orange glow of early morning
some things appear clearer than others.
Where the mind may be lost
what might stand to be found?