The Night Is Young
The pulsing redness of the dying sun,
Began to prevail into nothingness.
Yet all around the promenade
Bright lights shone from the business venue.
They sat on a bench, close, whispering sweet nothings.
The night was young, and they had much to say.
Would they wait for dawn?
Lights shimmer on the quiet sea,
like drifting dreams that never fade away.
She was tired and rested her head
On his shoulder as he held her close.
Then things began to shift.
Around the bay, bulbs were now in full light
The brass band began to blare.
Everyone was happily singing.
And in the depth of the bay
Fireworks cracked upwards
Sending sparkling stars above
It is a journey of excellent exhibition.
The two lovers stood up hand in hand.
And began their walk far from the crowd
Towards the quiet, where the moon had arisen.
A lovely red moon that was their wonder,
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