High On The Night
7 January, 2010
Author: Puppet
I'm on top of the tall neighborhood hill
overlooking the city
at four in the morning.
Under the night's swirling,
light-polluted fog,
the empty streets and dark houses
and yellow-orange lights
sit still and shimmering under my gaze.
If I cross my eyes a little,
unfocus my eyes a little,
the vast web of streetlamps
swell and deflate to the rhythm of my pulse.
With that heartthrob, I watch the city lights breathe,
and think it must be a metaphor for something.
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Comments on this poem/writing:
| Tarna (75.16.242.163) -- Thursday, January 7 2010, 08:23 pm making the beauty even more beautiful. I guess it all depends on how we look at things. Even the everyday things can look more beautiful when looked at from a different point of view good write I felt I was upon that hilltop with you. |
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