NIGHT FALLS GENTLY...

Night draped with street lamps
Passionless offerings of neon lights...
Music from the violin moves through
The windowpane

Mundane dust of time
A strange burning of passions
Leaving behind
Let us be alone

A strange night
The lilac sleeps
Let us be alone
Wind sings in the distance

Nights have wings
Own language of silence
Night moves into shadows

Into new memory...
And my abandoned poems

Asoke Kumar Mitra