On This Wee Hour

The lights
gives beauty to the dark,
dark and moonless sky,
blinding.

And the streets?
Busy.
Crowded.
Filled with deafening noises.

Across
lay towering heights,
some windows lighted,
and some?
Does it even exist?

While an image,
shadowy image
cast by the light of the room
reflected on the window pane,
staring blankly
on this real-life portrait
from his hotel room
in this wee hour
that seemed to be endless.
Awake.
Alone.
Frozen.