The Hibernation of the Olympic Games
The flame, a dancing queen,
Sways her orange dress in mid air;
The blue ember glows by her,
Lighting up the cold night.
The main stadium, dead, for now,
Free from the hubbubs and cheers of the fans;
The games rest in their nests...
The Olympians dismantle their tired wings.
The grass whispers joy,
The sea mumbles its secrets,
The moon, behind her veil,
Shyly peaking out to taste summer.
The city, silent and dreamy,
Not a sole wanders in the heart of London.
Late night in gloomy turquoise,
Awaits the first cheers of the larks.