The star happily winks at us Like a prodigious son of the night He twinkles amusingly on us With his everlasting glittering light. He caringly watches over us And peeps peacefully at our dreams Gracefully handing shy beams With every new born flash. He floats hand in hand With other sons of the night He sparkles love to his mother with no end And he sneaks across the brightened sky.
Put off the lantern. I am waiting for the moon’s primal face. The lesser flamingoes were going to shed the pink color. Nude as a python, the kiss of pomegranates, kills by asphyxiation. I suffer in the hands of protests.
It was night sin of domesticity. Dyed, I am loading the white secret of pain in the hollow of a mayhem. Till every blunder takes a downward flight striping the outsized image of a kill. His flames are now singeing