"Give me a light, friend," said the old man."
After all I've done for you.
Help me keep the dark away."
The young man had never seen the fool before.
Had come out to drink.
Forget work of the weekday.
Now the old man scared him.
He did not smoke. But the fool followed.
"Give me a light, friend. I do not like the dark."
The young man thought he had awful eyes.
He had seen horrid things, this old man.
"Sorry, sir. I do not smoke."
"After all I did for you," moaned the fool.
As if he had given him life. The great gift.
He pulled up his shirt and showed his scars.
"Look what I did for you, give me a light."
Fearful, the young man ducked into a bar.
His hands shaking as he ordered a double.
The bar keep told him to slow down.
Only nodded when he heard his story.
"That guys older than you know," he said.
"Poor old Promethus.
You should have given him a light.
Especially after what he did for you."