outside were ghosts
and a city made of sand
I sat
under a dark tree
listening to the way the dusk breathes
and how the light from the city
is slowly bleeding inbetween the trees
I can hear
that drunk chatter of those
city dwelling bar patrons
I can still remember that girl
with her scarlet red dress
and the way the fabric was stitched from sky

and on those nights
I find myself stumbling home
the city walls seem to crumble
but I can still hear their laughter
caught in the whisper of rain