lonely is the night for the broken man

cold dark night
wind swept streets
flickering streetlights
one lonely soul
head hung low
hands in pocket
drags his feet
past one lamp post to another
into darkness
and emptiness
where nothing awaits

toads hushed in his wake
the silence
grows louder
and louder
like a piece of glass
stretching and stretching
growing ever larger
thinner and thinner
and then
the scream of a racing bike
shatters the moment
into a million shards

and there
he stood
left in a pool of shards
fragments of memories
of a time long gone
gone
and never back again

and there
he stood
rooted
thoughts lost in the silence
broken
but growing once again
to fill the night
back to how it was
how it should be
how it would be