Streetlights light up the path of a midnight dreamer.
Dancing with the moon, emptiness is left unmoving.
Hymn a song to grace the falling stars,
Neglect the responsibilities to feel the warmth of 
bubbling 
alcohol that fills the stomach.
Standing still, 
Giggle at the holes in one's socks.
The skinned knee is the result of trying to impress angels
that 
kiss the night sky in deep dark indigos. 
Gazing up toward the heavens, 
Morning splits night into nothingness to stand proudly. 
Fondly looking at the two dirty converses that have found 
a new home,

away from the midnight dancer's feet and up on a telephone
wire.
A gift to the moon so when the sun disappears, 
The stars can still hold memory of the drunken fool who 
danced in socks filled with holes. 
Dirty converses, the remembrance of night's lover