Take a deserted street past midnight,
cobblestones reflect the silver
of the moon behind dark clouds.

Take a street lamp in the shadow,
take a new and polished taxicab
shining in its yellow circle of glory.

Take a lonely drunken lover
who slumbers on the side walk
by the taxi, pale, tear-stained face in the dark.

Take a gentlemanly house
by the lover on the side walk
and its prim curtained windows.

Take a curious child
who peeks through the curtains
to wonder at the mysteries of night.

Take a gray haired lady
with a ragged sack
down the cobbled street and wise eyes.

Take a down and right
to the drunkens’ abode
with tales that are told and retold.

Take a poorly made fire
in a home on the left
for poorly warmed poor to warm.

Take a wandering cat,
lithe and bright eyes,
who watches and watches some more.

Take a bright flash of lightning,
silence and thunder
and wind that brings fragrance of storm.

Take the raining applause
when the rain curtain falls;
The show hasn’t yet begun…

T. E. Pyrus