The light down the road

She stands under the yellow streetlight after the midnight,

Down the road he lives,
Insects hover over her head,

Thinking it’s her,

That makes the light be there.

They never shifted to the other streetlights,

Since generations,

And she had never shifted either.

At the night,

When the city bathes in yellow,

The streets specifically -  

Her poise under the streetlight is rather hard to ignore,

Most people stop to take a look,

She chooses,

Her illusion of exercising a choice,

Much like the insects,

As they choose which pole to hover over,

Even as many die before the sun comes out,  

Even as she cries,

Sometimes when no one comes to look,

As the dying insects fall into her hair,

As she slowly brushes them away,

As someone stops to take a look,

As the light flickers and the stars hide away behind the clouds.

Down the road he lives,

Thinking it’s her,

That makes the light be there. 
_