Street Lights Poem by Jorge Alexandre

Will this empty feeling, never end,
And I be burnt to the witching bone.
Will the lonely night stop grieving,
For its love the sun;
"Come home, come home"

The lonely night uncertain;
Unapproached in many ways,
And the rustling of the leaves never stop,
Until the light of day.

The once busy street now silent,
With lights that flicker;

RED
YELLOW
GREEN

RED
YELLOW
GREEN

I'm lying in my bed,
I'm dying in my sleep.