Beneath the quiet vigil of streetlights, 

I wander an urban twilight of soft luminescence. 

Each beam whispers of lost hours and unfurled tales, 

Summoning Auroela—a gentle, spectral dance 

Across a canvas of night, where sky and hope entwine.

In that hush, dreams meander like ripples on wet cobbles, 

Flickering soft against the chill of the evening air. 

They speak in muted tones of secret journeys and hidden realms, 

Painting delicate silhouettes on the pavement below, 

A ballet of aspirations that dare to rise and glow.

Amid the delicate glow, each light cradles a quiet wish, 

A promise suspended in the nocturne of the city’s breath. 

The streetlights guard these wishes, tender and sublime, 

Casting reflections of yearning on rain-slicked streets, 

Where every pulse of light is a vow to the dreamer’s heart.

So I stroll under these ancient, watchful beacons, 

Absorbing the silent language of wonder and desire. 

In the interplay of shadow and glow, Auroela lingers— 

A reminder that even in the darkest hours, 

Dreams and wishes persist, bright as the stars above.