Sitting still,

watching.

Orange glow of the lamp 

bathes the cracked sidewalk 

in a wavering glow

The form of a man 

glides into the light,

stark darkness

crisp form

colored in on the lines

with a shadow crayon

He leans against the lamppost

Who is he?

Faceless,

man of black.

The dim glow of a cigarette

comes to life in the night.

Two puffs of smoke and the man is gone,

sliding back into a vast,

formless world; 

the impenetrable sea of night

Standing still, 

watching.

An owl's hoot

drifts across the open field before me.

In the distance, the lamppost stands

alone.

Forgotten.

Until it brings to life

each wandering soul

and makes up a story

For any words