The necklace of lights,
Draped over 55th Street,

Shine their cold brilliance,
On my sidewalk defeat.

What happens to your light,
When it does nothing wrong?

But the passage of time,
Strikes the final gong.

This freezing night,
In north Hells Kitchen,

Was not the place,
I was meant to die in.

But darkness is unfair,
For those who offer light.

Because the soul of brilliance,
Is married to the night. 

And so this is goodbye,
And Happy New Year.

And remember my glow,
When I’m no longer here.