Thursday Rhymes 10.8.17

In the pitch dark
A dog barks at distance,
His sound reassures not feeble hearts,
But spreads a tinge of uneasiness,
Wondering what is he barking at,
Something human or inhuman,
The fireflies glow in darkness
Like distant stars in faraway sky.
Far away on the river bank
A funeral pyre burns,
The chanting of the party
Sends a shiver down the spine,
The wind rustles the bamboo grove
It sounds like thousand whispers
A leaf rustles a leaf falls, another brushes body
As if thousands of ghosts encroach upon him
From all sides, hidden in pitch darkness,
He pulls his tattered blanket around his body
And waits for morning light!
When everything will be normal again,
The birds will sing and sun will shine,
Dispersing the terrors of night,
Now he waits and prays
That all his fears are baseless
And those are just leaves and wind,
And fireflies, not specters of the night
Closing upon him as he lays
Huddled in his tattered sheet
Waiting for the morning.

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