Lampy

He's is a lamp post with a heart, or a face at least. It doesn't smile much, but then that's because it isn't a happy face. There is therein attached, a great responsibility, you see the lamp protrusion, extending awkwardly. From the side of the head at an angle not neat, no balance to counter what must be a strain. No rest for this lamp and no wonder dead pan; it's a pain on the neck, a strain. This metal skull cannot contain. It's pin eyes are wide with disconcerted effort to hold an eternal poised assistance to the street. An thankless task, only noticed by it's absence, and in these summer months for less hours than usual. Such is this lamp's plight...