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The quiet streets of the night
filled 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 splashed divine
enough to frame a perfect portrait.
The street.
Tells it's own story.
Like the American flag carries
glory.
Such praise to be honored from.
The white swiss shoes that carry our feet
like a man of honor
leading his fleet.
Man or Women
roams the dark valley's?
Or could it be
the wind hawk that soar's it's galley's.
But somehow
the atmosphere is no longer clean.
Upon the yellowish twilight it only seems
to lean against the moon.
elbows neatly covered in midnight dew.
A tattoo placed upon a man's leg
his character far from vague
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
peacefully,
waiting for a bus
and the dim street light
in which
he get's his reading light from.
-Desiree Chavez
