The Street Lights Are On

Come home before the street lights

come on, everyone knows.

On snow smothered streets,

swiftly past us each car goes.

Houses like fortresses,

tree branches like fingers,

as I walk through the darkness

and emptiness around me that lingers.

With the crunch of the snow,

the chill of the air,

I sniff the smell of burnt firewood

my nostrils aflare.

I'm walking through a dimly lit,

checkerboard path,

wandering and wondering

about things from my past.

Do people at home

question where I go?

Physically walking, but mentally

or emotionally I don't know.

I don't know where I am.

I don't know where I proceed.

I'm not sure what's wrong.

I'm not sure what I need.

Sometimes I feel lonely,

but I know I'm not alone.

I just want to go out,

I don't want to be home.

Now the street lights are on

guiding my way back

to my home with my family

and something I lack.