The Street Lamp

At the corner it stands. Resolute. An unmoving, unfailing symbol of strength. It's seen much. It has seen a lost child wandering, the shadows of dangerous men, the rush of runaway lovers. It has endured the constant changing of weather; the rain, the snow, the fog, the wind as it rushes... rushes... rushes... It hears much. Pealing laughter of giddy young girls. The swearing of the working men. It has heard threats from one man to another and the quiet murmur of a homeless man as he sits in its circle of protection on a bitter, lonely night. He talks of his troubles and it listens silently while his gravelly voice echoes through the streets. It hears the whimper of a lost puppy, who like everyone around him, is desperately searching... searching... searching... The street lamp can multiply, reflecting a million tiny lights onto wet pavement after a storm. When the lamp is lit it brings comfort and protection. When it is out it brings vulnerability and fear. Its stories are untold, and for years it stands, the best secret keeper of all.