Night Flood

By Mitchell Friedman

The dry river cries as the sky's son sighs.

The plants beg for some water as the sun gradually gets hotter.

So many dreams fading with the blue.

While darkness floods they'll all come true.

Now the barren rivers flow.

Along those rivers boats now row.

On these rivers is neon's glow.

The night has finally begun its show.

Luminescent towers stand tall like proud sunflowers.

They're happily aware that the time is ours.

At least, until the sun's ray showers.