by Connor Zimmerman on February 7, 2020
Poetry
by Grace O’Connor ’22
Strands of string lights circled around the wooden frame of the bunk bed
Warm yellow light illuminates from the mini bulbs
White wire twisted together to hold each mini light bulb in place
The string lights are a twisted vine keeping the wooden planks in custody
Tied around the bed frame tightly with no intention of coming loose
The loose end of the wire sneaks down to the floor, fusing itself with the outlet
The string lights are twinkling stars in the dark
They reflect their light against the wall like stars reflect their light in the sky
They can be seen in the darkest of nights pressed against the sky
The mini light bulbs are pointing in all different directions like a rusted street sign
Oblivious to the direction they are pointing to
There are dozens of them with their light shining a path from far away
The lights are fireflies lighting up the dark
Floating on the air with their visible illumination
They dim and brighten but never for a second lose my attention