As the darkness falls, I begin to feel alive.
With all the other night time creatures that in the dark thrive.
A tip toe in the street, a gaze upon a star-
frightened of bright lights of late night driving cars-
A blister in the street lamp, a curious beautiful sound,
of solitary feet stepping on the cold black ground.
Dark houses and windows cast shadows on the street,
Small animals and forgotten dogs barking when we meet.
Lovely wrestling in the trees with the moon peering out,
I forgot what the magic of evening is all about.
Singing on the corner, the lonely busking man-
as you pass by slowly listening to restaurant kitchen fans.
What a beautiful nuisance to still be awake,
company of vampires, and other characters we make.
The night time is the greatest for setting no rules,
sitting among piles of books, yarn and fine thread spools.
I can be productive when it's the right time day,
and I might be tired but come what may-
too the sleepless, the lonely, the staving artist of the night,
until the morning comes everything will be alright.
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