words at night late ...

Tick-click, tick-click reinforces the absolute silence. A far away accelerating car can only emphasize the absence of life around. Street-lights reflected by the yet-to-evaporate drizzle are a reminder of the darkness above. The regular cycle of the changing colours, red-amber-green-red, mark not the futility, but the wait for someone, something, with hope that their existence will be acknowledged. The idly lying guitar points to the abandonment , the tall glass facade, to the achievements hollow. The heavy blanket, to the coldness abound, the tapping keyboard, to the thoughts profound.

Tick-click, tick-click, time still passes by...