Him, the Archangel
Under the yellow lamplight he waits, With his five o'clock shadow, even though it's eleven now. The moonlight is hiding behind the clouds, Afraid to touch him. On the desolate streets, A car whizzes by, the few signs of life left In a city that's gone to sleep for the night. Black attire camouflages him perfectly Behind the veil of the night shadow. He lights up a cigarette- "Just a minute more", he mutters, Impatient to get it over with, Yet reluctant to finish it too quickly. No shaking hands,... Sign in to see full entry.