Chases the moon;
Watches the last of the streetlights
Fade out behind the misty embers,
Dimming if only for being outshone.
Half past six
Chases watery swathes
In blue-grey rolls
Back over a warming skyline.
Whence came the first wisps of smoke
That filled my cup
And a hundred others
For the sake of these streetlights?
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