There is a place I recall
Where flowers of neon fluorescence dripped fragrances of deep passion,
The kind only received in love.
Letters were not ended with
Sincerely,
My deepest regards.
Christmas trees became disco *****,
Beckoning dances of slow satisfaction.

I seem to have lost the light.
My friends around me teeter toward it,
Yet no longer do I step forward once without two steps
Back.
So faint are the feelings of warmth.
I wish only for luminosity,
But perhaps tomorrow.