The Alleyway Architect 🐀

City nights hum a different kind of tune,
a symphony of shadows beneath the moon.
In the forgotten corners, where trash cans convene,
lives the alleyway architect, unseen. 🐀

A scurrying shadow, whiskers twitching with glee,
the rat, a master builder, you see.
He hoards little treasures, a bottle cap crown,
a stray button, a feather that drifts down. 🐀

His blueprints are whispers in the dead of the night,
tunnels and pathways, hidden from sight.
He navigates by memory, a map in his mind,
a city within a city, his own kind. 🐀

We scoff and we shudder, with disgust in our eyes,
but the rat, he's an artist in clever disguise.
He carves out a kingdom, a hidden domain,
a testament to resilience, through sunshine and rain. 🐀

For the city's a giant, with a careless stride,
crushing dreams beneath its concrete hide.
But the rat, he persists, a survivor so bold,
building a world from the fragments of old. 🐀

Yet in his scurrying, a deeper truth gleams,
a connection to whispers in forgotten dreams.
He gathers the cast-offs, the broken, the lost,
reminding us all, nothing is truly at cost. 🐀

Each scavenged trinket, a fragment divine,
a spark of the city, a sliver of time.
He builds not just tunnels, but bridges unseen,
connecting the scattered, a web, ever keen. 🐀

So next time you see him, a shadow that darts,
remember the architect playing his parts.
He reminds us, with each whisker and twitch,
that even in darkness, a dreamer can enrich. 🐀

For the spirit resides in the smallest of things,
in shadows and alleys, where the lost heart sings. 🐀