The murmur of people clutters
as lanterns splutter in the wind.
Music leaks at the edge of hearing
as people dance and drink away.
The night appears still -
busy underneath, when senses
search for the movement
the muffled noises.
Illusions advertising stores -
long since closed for the day -
bright as the moon
which we cannot see below.
The towers climb ever higher,
the stairs feeling steeper
to aching muscles and bones.
So far from home, so far from sleep.
A scuffle stumbles out of a bar close
by - reasons unknown -
quickly dissolved by
alcohol and bouncers.
Up the stairs, clambouring up,
gasping for breath,
awaiting to be silouetted
by the kind moons.