The rain falls as it always falls on unfinished tales
No one noticing the shadows that stretch away from the long light
Where once the dragons danced on the tongues of men and legends were born,
No one misses them
Or the rubbish discarded and uncomplicated
In a testament to modern living,
Plastic lingering forevermore and a day
Paper soaked or floating with the constant drop of water
Cold for winter, almost sleet, never snow.
Heels click, echoing, hurrying out of the night
And the mind games the darkness plays to the tunes of old fables
Away to castles of boxes with papered walls and window glass
To dry in the island of themselves
And their own fires which are no more than the skip of light and heat.
Tires break puddles,
Seeking more than the road behind in speed
Leaving tiny rainbows imprisoned in a splash of colours
And a dry silhouette to mark where it stood once upon a time…
And what of the man who keeps the night in his pocket
And all the stories that never change?
He travels the world over in a heartbeat
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: hum
A piece of freewriting I did today.