He stands on the corner
Alone, in the dark
He walks, slowly,
Towards the light stricken park.
The shadows and the sights
Hit him gently on the arm
The silence that rings out in his mind
Echoes around him, like an alarm.
The benches sit, waiting
And the swings creeks, taunting
The birds don't even sing,
The quietness is a haunting.
His hair begins to ruffle
As the wind begins to blow
The fireflies are passing by
Their tails, slightly aglow.
The sky begins to lighten
As the morning draws quite near
The evening is slowing disappearing
Left, is no more fear.
The man slowly, walks back home
And opens the front door
And throws his body down
His muscles and bones quite sore.
The sun creeps slowly
Lighting the sleeping boy
His hair a scattered mess
And his body as limp as a toy.
The light burns his eyes
And the heat scalds his face
His body burns, ashes left
Atop a pillow of lace