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