The silver lining of the moon
crosses through the black night
like a veil of dreams
it lays on the roofs
It swallows every sound
and freezes time
The world is standing still and takes a deep breath
For it to gasp on the next day
The fog wonders through the streets
broken by the rhythmic pulse of street lamps
Like beacons of loneliness
whose orange glow shimmers at the horizon
From time to time you see shadows
eaten by the darkest black
Far away you see candle’s light
shining through an old crackly window
being like an lonely soul
in the middle of the night
There he is
A man who writes
a poem in the night
There his sleep
has flown away