As if serenade to the black heavens, to they that cradle starlight, the lampposts turn on in sequence to create a runway of the blacktop road.
Yet there is a lightening of the night, for there is a lamppost - its electric flame bringing a lighthouse-glow to the wider street.
The lamppost stands as if it were the gateway to Narnia, as if the puddle of light it forms is a portal onto the dreamscape bridge.
The lamppost is my earthbound starlight, for it has that golden glow and upon each streetlamp I make my wishes.
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