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The quiet streets of the night
Covered with cigarette butts
and oil spills
Retiring at last
From the afternoon thrills
A lonely man rides by on a bike
Unaware of the dark moonlight
The only light that paints the sky
The colors splash divine
It frames a perfect portrait
The street
Tells it's own story
Like the American flag carries
glory
Such praise to be honored by
The shoes that carry our feet
Like a man of distinction
Leading his fleet
Men and Women
Roam the dark valleys
Or could it be
The hawk that soars it's galley's
Somehow-
Ths atmosphere is no longer clean
Upon the yellow twilight it only seems
To lean against the moon
Elbows neatly covered in midnight dew
The tattoo etched upon a man's leg
Reminds me of my recent escapade
You know what they say
The creatures come out at night
Tonight I see it all
My imagination running away with me
When in reality
There was only a man standing
Silent
Waiting for a bus
and the dim street light
In which
he gets his reading light from
-Dez Sevena
