The night is young
He hungers for her embrace
The warm twilight
Bringer of dreams
Choked with the smog and sins of the city
Each one new
Filled with wonder
Infinite possibilities
He walks the streets
Viewing the world through a child’s eyes
Innocent
Not yet jaded
Though time has marked him with scars
Humanity
A bitter wasteland in an abyss of stars
‘Til morning comes
Morning with its golden glory
The light that chases the darkness away
He is alone
“A Fleeting Mistress is Night” was printed in Crossroads, No. 8 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
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