Dusty rings,
Reach out to grasp the glowing filament,
Yet they are frozen in the strobing rays,
They flicker faster than the brain can run,
Spattering out bursts of light in the gaps of my optical refresh,
And the rings are held on golden whims,
Stretching out but never arriving,
So they sit there dusty, casting shade,
Shades we'll call them,
For shade they are.