"Wont Make it Home by Curfew" By:Cassandra Freiborg 11/19/05

Friday night winter wind gusts,

down a dark road walking,

slow and drugged travelers,

must be home by curfew but,

just cant seem to find the right road home.

Smiles, laughes, and shadows shifting,

all the melodies of the night,

leaves blowing by, you hum slowly,

mind lost in thoughts that you,

wont remember tomorrow anyways.

Another wrong turn to a dead end,

turn around and jog instead,

back from where you came,

because everything is equal,

under these street lamps that,

block out the stars and the night sky.

Another gust, and your hair dances,

swirling about your face seductively,

and you fling yourself into the air,

like some drunken ballerina,

and cry out with delight and sorrow,

close your eyes and down a dark road,

you start walking again,

slow and drugged travelers,

that wont make it home by curfew.