33

Shadows left where moments ended,
empty space so filled
and yet, 
invisible to passing strangers.

Double vision, straining sight,
funny how it seems so right
that space should never fill.

Blowing matches one by one,
they lie spent all around the bench,
growing darkness 
snatches figures from the lanes.

Final flare, haze surrounding,
shading head and rest as coal,
one last glimpse, the night's rebounding,
covering another soul.