Comfort

I used to wander warily down streets
Whose names I could not read; the streetlights dimmed
With every step I took, and my heartbeats
Grew louder in my ears; the moon was rimmed
With almost hidden stars, which seemed to shrink
As if in fear of what might come to light
Were they to shine their brightest. Every blink,
Every momentary shifting of my sight
Would promise something lurking in the dark
Protected by the corner of my eye.
As now I sit at home, I miss the stark
Precision of those days; I often sigh
And wonder where they went. But I should know.
They left because I wanted them to go.