Sleeping Cities

In sleeping cities people passing in the midnight stillness, I want to write about your brilliance - how brave you are to witness starving wars, how can I mend your war-torn heart? As all your apologies slide through outstretched fingers like quicksand through a seive - leaving broken promises for me to see, filling my stomach with acid and anxious ponderings of who you used to be, I have drawn and painted in metaphors of your troubled mind - where nothing will ever be simple! I want to engrave you in my ink plot, becoming man-made fireflies, after all these years I still remain unafraid of the unknown when the wind wrestles the leaves.