Beneath the neon glow,
where asphalt dreams weave stories,
whispers of unsung lyrics,
flutter in the night's breeze,
like pages of a forgotten tome.
"Not all symphonies need orchestras,"
a streetlamp once confided,
"sometimes just the city hums."
Coffee cups hold more secrets,
than the baristas know,
echoes of laughter and sighs,
mingling with the froth,
constructing cacophonies,
of forgotten conversations.
"Each cup is a duet," a spoon remarked,
"dancing with every sip taken."