You're not on the bureau,
For people to accolade,
You don't paint my walls,
With age, you'd fade.

Provide me with comfort,
During the darkest times,
Shower me with warmth,
Your support is subtle yet sublime.

You never ask for returns,
Yet burn yourself out,
Each time I ask for you,
You're here for me without a doubt.

Beside me on the bedside,
With your tiny bulb you shine,
That pretty little umbrella around you,
You make company of one seem fine.

Sometimes I fail to appreciate,
Your value in my bed room,
Without your light so bright,
How would I read a book?

Indeed, how would I read,
And how would I scrawl?
If I didn't have my bedside lamp,
Who supported my 2am drawls?

***
Every writer's silent supporter. Even though now the phone screen's light is also handy, a lamp is an aesthetic experience. 😉
Do tell me your thoughts on this poem!