The Light House

I would like to bottle this
And keep it safe to savor later on.
The evening we sat watching the sea,
And also the preposterous light.
All it took was one of us noticing how
It flickered on and off.
Then the three of us were off and running.
It flickered because it had delusions of grandeur,
Thinking it was a lighthouse.
Much laughter accompanied this theory.
It wasn't long before the three of us were
Rooting for that light, encouraging it to stay on.
Telling it "You are just as good as those lighthouses"
Giggling hard as people walked by.
Degenerating into a song,
"I'm a little lighthouse, short and stout,
My light is on now, then it goes out"
Unable to breathe, we quit singing,
We have laughed so hard we are breathless.
On the walk home, another theory is posited,
All lighthouses start as little cement streetlights.
They then grow taller, eventually getting their plumage,
After their stripes come in, you might be lucky enough,
Maybe, to see their migration to the headlands.
We sweep in the door, all smiles and windblown.