At 2 a,m., the middle of the night, I've

been around the world
taking a stroll;
I first spied a couple
professing love
and a soloist beside
making love to his phone.
The dewdrops took shape
and shrimpled upon my shoulders -
the aching persona I've built
over years finally asking
forgiveness and moving
to another cove.

Under stars of crimson hidden
under the usual sprinkling
of white, the other-world
took flight for a night.
The walk was futile -
no answers were found -
no talking to the self provided
wisdom to record.
Upon walking home
the cat mewed once awhile
and the little puppets kept
prancing for their lives.

Their talk was gentle,
their pets divine;
the man within asked forgiveness
and the chance to live awhile.