Neon Dusk Wanderer

A striped sun burns low in violet haze, Neon tongues whisper through the rainy street; Her shadow glides where mirrored puddles blaze, While distant engines hum a softer beat. Palm silhouettes lean into electric air, Signboards breathe cyan, drifting into night; She walks alone, yet finds a shelter there, In warm pink light that turns the fog to flight.