Nights I remember

Night one

Of the many ways I thought to leave, a star dimmed and showed the way.

Night two

The moon, a raging bonfire. Stars sit around like tribal chieftains sharing stories. I read the sky.

Night three

I step out of the car to open the gate. White are the husky bougainvilla petals. White is the muffled moonlight and the mellifluous outlines of jasmines growing by the Sintex tank. White is the glow from the street lamp. White is the song from the moon. White, the sky that is. White, the sky that was. White is the night.

Night four

I enter my unlit home - that past midnight, roils with hope of a candle-wick that was snuffed out but will taste the flame soon.

Night five

Curtains were not fully drawn. Non-chalance of a full moon in the sky. Intricacy of the treetop that filters. Something out there always cares.

Night six

Five books by the bedside and a heart that can't decide.

Night seven

Remembered something. Twinge of pain. Some blurb that did the healing. The moon will soothe the deeper wounds.

Night eight

A thespian sky flirts with an abandoned pillow in the balcony.

Night nine

Misty grammer of muddled clouds. Uncorrected. Understood.

Night ten

Heavy, heavy sleep and the eyes droop. Closed lids, open skies. And out there a million constellation for a thousand whys. Confuse answers because they came from the sun. Children that will forget the legacy.

P.S. - For every late night that I have witnessed over the last few weeks. You fleeting, whispering, enchantress - you gave me much.