In the stillness of
night’s touch,

concrete jungles become
barren, empty, lonely.

Where the whirring
of motors and whizzing
of passing cars
leaves only silence
in the dark of night.

Mechanics continue routine
where the rays of the sun and
the reflection of the moon
have no meaning.
Switching between red and green,
waiting at a standstill.
Lampposts stand tall,
emitting their ember orange
on the cracked sidewalk below.

Headlights come and go,
with speeders on the run
from the first signs of dawn,
where those of the living
will soon begin to roam.

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