Battery

As the queen of the night,
the lamp blooms
on my study table,
illuminating my thoughts.

In the darkness,
the torch whittles
a way for my vision.

The timepiece teaches me
time can be musical.
Each ticking has a meaning.

My radio catches
a flying voice.
I ruminate nonchalantly
under the eaves of the song.

Everything is enticing,
energized by the battery
that remains inside
like my father.

First published in The Literary Hatchet.