Night Rider
The midnight hour had come and gone. The dwindling hours were gradually rollings towards a break of day. Not quite the twilight zone, perhaps something in between. The streets were sombre and relaxed. A soft calmness gently carried itself within the night wind. The concreted surroundings of a city breathed slowly as it slept.
This was the backdrop as I made my slow movements. The time had transpired for me to return to my sanctuary.
Four wheels, no. Two wheels, yes.
ipod on, it usually always is. 'Drive', that beautifully fantastic score played into my ears as I rode. Rhythmically I moved, a steady continuous motion I cycled. Tired, yet watchful. Observant, yet cautious. A sharp gust of wind blew paraphernalia in front of my wheel. I swerved slightly. A fox with its prey scurried ahead of me. All processed, everything noticed. Small lights luminating conservatively denoted my existence on a road that felt like mine, mine alone.
Thoughts of anticipation, arriving at my destination. My home, my bed. A thief in the night, a lady that frequents the night, a person returning to their habitat. The night sky, the ever constant concealing umbrella.
While the city slept I was awake. When the city rose, I rose. Bloodshot eyes and a jaded demeanour the features that betray my late night shenanigans.
Demola, TCC
This was the backdrop as I made my slow movements. The time had transpired for me to return to my sanctuary.
Four wheels, no. Two wheels, yes.
ipod on, it usually always is. 'Drive', that beautifully fantastic score played into my ears as I rode. Rhythmically I moved, a steady continuous motion I cycled. Tired, yet watchful. Observant, yet cautious. A sharp gust of wind blew paraphernalia in front of my wheel. I swerved slightly. A fox with its prey scurried ahead of me. All processed, everything noticed. Small lights luminating conservatively denoted my existence on a road that felt like mine, mine alone.
Thoughts of anticipation, arriving at my destination. My home, my bed. A thief in the night, a lady that frequents the night, a person returning to their habitat. The night sky, the ever constant concealing umbrella.
While the city slept I was awake. When the city rose, I rose. Bloodshot eyes and a jaded demeanour the features that betray my late night shenanigans.
Demola, TCC
Comments
Post a Comment