Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Scenes on a Cold Night


In the cold of the night, your eyes on me,
twinkling with a starry shine, your eyes that scans me.

In the cold of the night the star shines bright,
its brightness obscured in the moon's white light.

In the cold of the night, your breath on me,
your breath, so loud and warm, appeals to me.

In the cold of the night, the raven in the tree waits,
waits for the sun to shine through the heavenly gates.

In the cold of the night, the tree stands still,
still as a corpse, feeling the night air's cold chill.

In the cold of the night, the dew on the petal shines,
soaking in the moon's silvery light.

In the cold of the night, the flowers bloom bright,
growing in the scent that often swim in those moonlit nights.

In the cold of the night, eerie and silent lie the green vales,
the vales who watches the hills in every detail.

In the cold of the night, the mists hang on the silent lakes,
The lakes whose peace only the dragonflies’ wings breaks.

The air stands still on those cold nights,
the nights in which we sit by the lake,
under the star’s divine light.

© 2015 Abhijit Pandit