when you're a lantern

I gaze out across the landscape

Of the park that I overlook

In sight: the rolling meadow, the intersection of a path, the lake

And a girl on a bench with a book.

I'm not yet lit,

It's my favourite time of day,

I'm not casting my light,

I can only observe as the hours wind away.

The girl sits quietly,

Her fingers skim the pages,

Her peace brings me peace

And I could watch for ages.

With every passing day the girl comes to the quiet little bench,

She sits alone, her book in hand,

Her body still, her eyes roaming,

And her hair tied back with a rubber band.

I became quite used to her, sitting all by herself

That when she was joined by a man I didn't know

I struggled to understand

And my nightly light struggled to show.

But now she sits there

Still with her book in hand

And he sits with a book in his

And his eyes on their pram.