The bulb that once lit up this room
Has yielded, burnt out, to the gloom.
I climb the ladder, flex my wrist,
Apply an anti-clockwise twist,

Discard the old, insert the new,
Threading this time a clockwise screw,
Then flip the switch to spark the glow
That will not last for long, I know.

A golden lad now in his prime,
This bulb will meet a darker time.
Once more the ladder I will mount
To put paid to his bright account.

The filament that’s hot and bold
Today will soon enough grow cold.
These threescore watts of fragile light
Cannot for long ward off the night.