most of America is still asleep
so i strike while the iron is not
from the rest of the world
not a single peep
as out about treading lightly i creep
i flit around our little globe
from the tropics to the poles
from the deserts to the wide open seas
and
back
again
and no one knows a thing
and nary a trace exists in the space
it's just browser history now...
i recant my digital journey and quietly vacate
and yet i've used over half a day
just dreaming and scheming
it's just gone sixteen thirty in New York
my phone tells me its been a magic day
a cloudless twenty seven degrees
bloody beautiful
i move and so does the clock
it's now a bit past seven pm,
i see your version of our sun
gently touch the west side of your city
until
the night glides in like a silk sheet
dimming everything
touching everything
going
where the light cant
.
.
.
dammit New York
i sat here
with you
the whole night
i watched you fall asleep
i watched you rise and yawn
a bit before dawn
nice pajama's toots!
this is just the
impression that i get
About the Creator
Bren
“I know what I mean it to be and respect that someone else may read something entirely different.” Me
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