I've met so many people
In my life already.
Most I have forgotten,
Lost even their names.

Others are silhouettes,
With the moving outlines
Of their bodies revealing
Most of what I need to know.

A few huddle under the
Lamplight with me,
Crowding each other out,
The closer ones there by chance.

I know these people well
But they're the kind that
Will scatter to the next light
As their attention or agenda wavers.

One or two are less ephemeral,
Yet seeing one side of each,
I know the others must be
Always in shadow.

Ultimately the light
Shines only on me
But I wonder if it's
Simply by choice.

I am the same way
With others, leading
Them along and yet not
Letting them in.

I am comfortable here
For these aren't the only
People with whom
I've shared light.

There're others whose lights
Burn in different colors
And spray sparks, drawing
My attention again.

I cling to my lamppost
Lean out into the dark
For a view of those gliding
Rapidly into the distance.

I still sigh at the beautiful lights
Months after I left your halo
Of movement and words and thoughts
And the beauty of your fierce intelligence.