He walked on the dull street,
the sulfur lamps glowing wanly.

The posts were stretching up,
embracing the midnight air,
leaving the cobblestone
beneath to gather the dirt.

His pace quickened, and he
shoved his hands into the
deep pockets of his coat.

The sound of boots on stone,
the clicking of nocturnal worlds
were his only companions on
this hollow evening.

Her face flashed before him,
momentarily blinding, sending
shivers through his mind.

He stopped and turned abruptly,
gasping in the stark and bitter
realization that coupled his
insatiable hunger for her.

The house before him was of
drear ruin and disarray.

He frowned at the sight, so
depressing to him, this
that once housed their
fragile, gentile youths.

How had her sunporch,
a haven of safety,
fallen to the cold, gripping
hands of the sordid?