He wraps a scarf around his neck
And steps out into the night air.
Peering out, he’s sheltered for a moment
under his apartment balcony.
Striding onto the street, the raindrops gather along his collar.
Looking over his shoulder,
the lights twisting round his balcony twinkle in the mist.
Walking on, the occasional taxi passes
Splashing water from the puddles up onto the sidewalk.
The usual hectic honking,
The dizzying traffic,
Has faded into silence,
Broken only by the occasional siren in the distance.
The streetlamps cast a soft glow on the sidewalk.
The falling mist scatters incandescent sparks,
Reflecting the city lights.
In the distance, a train whistles.
The jazz club, down the street, holds only a few,
Stumbling a bit as they leave,
The last few notes drifting down the street.
Turning back, the skyscrapers, a jungle of lights, brighten the horizon.
Millions of flickering candles.
Their soft glow shapes the sky behind them.
A soft golden orb of mixing lights
Blending with the deep purples of the early morning sky.
A feeling of melancholy drapes itself round him.
Pulling the scarf closer round himself,
He trudges home.
Amidst the symphony of silence, hum of factories, and twinkling of buildings,
He stares at the glimmering lights wrapping the balcony.
A slight, melancholy smile.