London's eyes have
shut for the night.

The train tracks
cannot be danced
upon,

just as pillows are
only made of
feathers.

I will write
however,
as I have no doubt
that you shall sing

but just not in
London.

The city
that has never
slept has finally
gotten a good
night's rest

and I suppose,
we'd better
tiptoe around
the house,

to not disturb
her slumber.

Even if it
means we
must be
silent

also.