In the low light of a bulb with a small crack

A man sat in the corner of a dim room.

His hands were clasped upon his lap

His face was shrouded with gloom.

 

He stared at the bed that had used to fit two

At the single imprint in the mattress

And looked in the mirror and suddenly knew

That he saw his own smile less and less.

 

He walked out his door and into the dark night

He dragged his large travel bags behind him

Then walked down the street and swung a right

To a bus stop that looked a little bit grim.

 

He sat for a while and looked down at his wrist.

The ten ‘o’ clock bus was running too late.

Or maybe the bus was just already missed.

He wondered how long he’d still have to wait.

 

A few minutes passed and a girl came around

And sat next to the man at his right.

After a while of not making a single sound

She quietly declared it was quite a nice night.

 

“It’s too dark,” the man grudgingly replied

“And the streetlights seem to all be dead.”

The bus was approaching and he stood for his ride

The girl stepped in front and looked up and said:

 

 “It is only during the darkest of times

that you are able to see the stars in the sky.”

And with that, up the bus steps she climbed

And the man caught himself telling her goodbye.

 

The man turned his back to the bus doors

And he pulled his bags back to his home.

He put everything away and cleaned up the floors

And replaced the bulb until it shone.

 

The house was as bright as it used to be

He turned out the lights and walked to the yard.

He sat down on the love seat that hung from a tree

His mood no longer cold and hard.

 

“We’re all made of stardust,” she used to say

And he gazed up at the sky and its awesome expanse

He could see her clearer than in the light of day

And he closed his eyes and let the little stars dance.