On top of my hill

From on top of my hill this morning,
the city is on fire
Or it was and all that is left are embers shining softly in the one o'clock darkness.
Beneath my lampost
on a corner
not far from my house
the night is nearly silent
chains from a nearby swingset
chiming,
swoosh of cars farther away -weary travelers returning home.
If I listen
I can hear the water in the drains rushing beneath the city streets.
Out here in the dark
it reminds me of veins carrying blood somewhere in the body...
unnoticed except in silence. It is a soothong sound, matching the flickering of the far of lights.
I wish I could sleep.
It is too early.
Or too late.
I almost want to stay here and see the dawn..
Would anyone care?
Would anyone notice?
It is Valentine's day, and I am alone.