The speed of light is interesting-
the idea that light has to travel from A to B-
as a result, somewhere,
a boy’s night light is turned on,
but he doesn’t see it,
because the light had to travel to his eyes
across the insurmountable distance
from one end of the room to the other
in a minuscule amount of time
From the moment the boy turned it on
to when he rushed to his blankets.
It isn’t enough, but it tries, as it always will;
That’s the kind of love that boy needs
Laying in his bed
In the dark
As his bruised mother sulks past his door.