NIGHT CITY, WHITE CITY.

At night
The moonlight,
An unearthly white,
In the shape
Of the window
Falls on
The darkened floor,
Like the door
To another world.
A world of faces
And good graces.
Where a girl
Now resides.

On this side,
In the shadows
Of the night,
A Black Wraith
She silently glides.
But on that side,
In the world white
She is a bird;
A butterfly.
A tree, a flower,
A moth, a dragonfly.

She is here
She is there,
She smiles through
A Curled mass
Of silken hair.
Missing a sock,
In a tattered frock,
Her mind is
Her only clock.

She wanders
Leaving bits of
Herself
Perched on a lamp-post,
Seated on a bench,
On the tip of a girl's nose,
Or the spread on a bread.

She spins
Like the whirlpool.
Or skips
Like a pixie
Through this white city.

City of light.
Its gateway through
The night.

Free, she, weeeee.....