A speaker takes a walk along a road that once felt bright and alive, and the walk turns into a quiet look backward. The road is shiny and full of lights, and the speaker admits to having been that way too, "just like I used to be before." Now things are different. Sitting on a rusty bench, the speaker feels changed, no longer carrying the old feeling of being "sore," whether that means hurt, bitter, or restless.
The mood is gentle and wistful, with a trace of relief. The speaker isn't wallowing in loss, but notices what has stayed the same: the bench, the lights, and the memories of a shared past. The last lines suggest this was a relationship, perhaps romantic, in which two people "lighted" each other every day. That idea ties back to the title, "Old lightning." The glow is still there, but now it lives in memory, and the speaker seems to be at peace with that.