Fool in a puddle of streetlight gold, I wait.
Echoes of a city now dead sweep through concrete arteries; I listen to their memory.
Something flies past, perhaps, a pigeon, but as likely a jet.
Everything has changed so much; I’ve left it too long.
I gaze up, then up again to a window dripped in night; your window, but you are gone.
You said you’d wait, but so did I.
So now, as I drown in pools of flickering misery, I must choose:
Remain or retreat?
I will linger.
But I know you’ll never come home.
(Image courtesy of maxlain on deviantart.com)