Night creatures

Vantage point, the highest floor is. I see all, especially at night when light contrasts against the lack of and figures are contoured even more so, from my look-tower. They are night creatures, I think, quietly, secretly to myself. They live like nocturnal animals do. Their concept of illumination is by way of artificial florescent bulbs. Little do they know about the glorious sun. I keep these thoughts to myself because I have not forgotten that I used to be one of them. I used to be a night creature like them. And they are still my friends. They steal softly into the darkest hours of the day, they witness the best of the rain - rain that is black like ink and cold as ice, protesting as they fall amongst sleeping leaves and shadowed concrete. The chilly night air is where they breathe best, inhaling in the stillness of lifelessness, dancing through winter winds and blushing from the steam of cooking pots and late-night noodle soups. And as dawn pours into the morning, the night creatures retreat into their eyes, under their bedsheets, behind their doors, in silent wait for night time to come again.