By the stroke of midnight,
I slip into my sneakers
And ply the dead paths of delight,
Always mysterious but ending up
Heaped with “Terrific!”
“Encore!”
“Professional!”
You see, all goodbyes murmured are final.
Nothing can render my shoelace untied
Before I flee the darkness
Because every journey home
Is a return to you—
The light whose mellow touch
Gives silence a fuller meaning,
Whose kiss transfigures a sneaker-wearing frog
Into some crystal-stillettoed prince charming.
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