Towering buildings sweep their widening arms to enclose a large city.
They reach outstretched arms to seize the final rays of golden sunlight
as August takes the place of July.

The warm, humid air turns the dark streets into hot, crimson flames as 
people with strollers and dogs dash across the crosswalk like mice,
weaving in and out of cars and vendors, a needle and thread.
They hang onto the edge of the burning sidewalk dragging their screeching children,
leaving a trail of places behind them.

Filthy pigeons stroll and swoop as they walk like kings and queens down the street,
later they banter as knights for offerings left
by their peasants in the gloomy alleyways.

Sirens shriek like hyenas to the hospital as the lights shift from green to red,
just as oblivious taxis sprint past
as if their lives depend upon winning this race.

People walk through the park,
the green grass glowing like a thousand glistening emeralds beneath their feet.
A gallant, strapping steed arrives with a scarlet, velvet throne in tow, as
he trots through with his passengers,
thinking that the world is his palace.

Finally, daylight breaks over the ceiling and fades over the city,
as the night lights emerge from the inky shadows beneath the somber buildings.
The people carry themselves to their beds but the city remains awake,
until the last street light goes
out.