Lost In Translation

2 AM

Here’s to the dreamers.

Who come alive in the night and fall asleep to the sound of the waking birds.

To the whiskey drinkers. The novel writers. The deep thinkers.

To those who would rather feel their way through the dark than judge their own reflections in the light.

To the conspiring traveler and the late night gambler.

To the next Bukowski, Hemingway and Thompson.

And to anyone who’s ever sat up under the light of the moon, strumming a set of strings.

To the truth seekers and the songwriters.

To the Holden Caulfields, who’ve been lost in their own city.

To the stargazers and the skinny dippers.

to torn jeans and bare feet on a moonlit shore.

Here’s to 2 AM.

In this hour, we’re in good company.