Gleaming in the shadow were the neon lights

1960s Brooklyn

Gleaming in the shadow, 

were the neon nights;

flashing like little stars,
in the mid of a sky.
The night air was cool, 
and you were driving in your jeep,
to a destination of you and I.
Deep in the darkness, 
you looked ahead,
with eyes searching along the road,
I looked to you,
You turned your head around,
your eyes were dipping into mine,
yet, your mouth was shutting tight.
And, then,
you looked away, 
as if we might still see each other again. 

Gleaming in the shadow, 
were the neon lights.
Standing straight behind the bar,
your eyes were smiling, 
like those sparkling stars.
I was your little angel, 
and you were my knight.
Perhaps,
I should have asked:
if you were still by my side,
would you have danced with me till the end of time, 
the end of time. 
You were a rocky stone to me,
yet I desired to crash against you,
till you became mine. 

Gleaming in the shadow, 
were the neon lights.
My soul is erroding and carrying away by the roaring tides;
and yet,
you are smiling with pride, 
completely blind to life. 
Deep in the cursy darkness, 
my dream was calling.
Were you there? 
Did you hear my call? 
I doubt so.
Yet, 
my call was thin and feeble, 
as that of a helpless infant. 
I saw you were walking towards me.
Your figure was tall and strong. 
Yet, 
as I stepped toward you,
you drifted afar. 
I told you I was looking for you.
Yet, 
you only nodded, 
as if I was only a stranger of a day
and in a blind of an eye,
you were gone,
gone away with the mist of time. 

Gleaming in the shadow,
were the neon lights.
The broken glass were shattered by rain and your summer wine. 
Where have you been, boy?
The night air has never been so cool once I was with you. 
Get into your jeep,
and find me. 
Find me in the wild lane,
in the field of glory.
Chase me,
till I stumble. 
Light your cigar, 
and find me. 
Find me in the dark forest of yesterday. 
Find me croaching next to the lamp post,
or lying on the snow, 
like a homeless child without a home. 
Find me sitting on the cold stairs of the southern river bank, 
eyes gleaming
heart pounding,
with the gentle sounds of the drizzling rain;
waiting, anticipating, 
as I watch the nearby boats sail to harbour;
or to the edge of eternity. 
Come, boy,
Come and find me.
Find me under the glimmering neon lights.
Yes, 
that's where you would find me,
under the glamorous neon lights,
where the shadow of you and I, 
would hold tight once again, 
for the last time.