A slim crescent hangs suspended from
gossamer threads
In the gently purpling sky
And the clouds low on the horizon.
The trees and the towers are shadows,
Silhouettes on the boulevard.
The lamps go on in the park,
The fireflies come out and dance in
the grass.
Fly up and pretend you're a star
Caught in the bough of the bougainvillea
And stop for coffee just before closing.
You see lights come on in the houses
across the road.
A face looks out, dreamy, wistful
– for a split second
Then the curtains are drawn.
And you walk slowly back.
Everything's asleep and the world is yours