Twilight Hour TouristMy footsteps sound different
when I walk through my
deserted neighbourhood
at 2am.

Under the halo of streetlights
and lazy falling snow
I wander slowly and serenely
but with intent.

I look at warm cozy homes
and I wonder if they’re really loving
or is that why the front of a house
is called a façade? 

It’s better to play pretend that
they are all with the ones they love
and I’m the only lost soul
wandering the streets tonight.

BB

 

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