clicks of your shoes on a dark asphalt
echoes through an empty road under the night sky
fireflies flicker about the light post,
chilly winter breeze hurriedly pass us by,
Perhaps a bundle of fiddles, we are
dancing on a gentle breeze, harsh breeze, tornado,
earthly bound, soaking underly redoubtably grand sunlight,
perhaps we grow a little,
perhaps we spread out a little,
perhaps we laugh a little.
clicky-clack, dancing through this infinite night.
9.26.2019
Ralph with Coffee 