The night is for the dreamers
though none of them asleep
for the writers the artists the singers
the 2am girls on park benches.
It is for the heroes and the losers
and another drink of
something slow and smooth.
Heartbreak and honesty and
spoken words fogging up
cold parked-car windows.
As the clock ticks on
into the night
I’ll pull the sky around me
like a blanket of velvet
and I’ll sing a little song for you.

BB

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