Lamplighter of Lost Dreams

I'm at the Craft bar

staring at Fixed Wheel.

The bartender glares,

he wants something,

but I'm not giving it.

Not yet.

A green lamp glows

lightening my face,

while shadows dance

in the dark and musty corners.

I still remember that day

when someone murdered my wife.

Two men seeking revenge.

It was an old case

best forgotten.

They thought they had a deal with me.

Never trust a detective on a case

when his wife is lecturing about material things.

Dusk had already gathered beyond the window.

The lamplighter began his nightly rounds.

In his black hat and black cape, he looks like death.

He illuminates the path for passers-by every evening.

Cobblestone dreams diverge, each on its own path.

Paved with glory or paved with grief.

They simply must choose their own way

while someone's consumed by a burning bed,

fuelled by the excess of dangerous love.

Turning away from the source,

where light arrives too late,

only illuminating the aftermath

of all the atrocities inflicted upon the soul

with vicious intent.

Someone must shift them

into an orange hue

brightening the faces of those

who've lost sight of the world.

If just for this radiance.

It's worth the effort.

The bartender suggests sea trout.

Char-grilled, with hazelnut sauce.

I'm stuck with regret.

Hesitant and unreal.

A realisation dawns.

My time has come,

I’m utterly done

lost in a smudge from the dirty mirror

reflecting all my failures.

No relief,

just an incessant drilling in my head.

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Thank you for reading!