The Wintry Night

A dead calm in the bedroom lingers on her head.
An uncanny shadow lurks in the corner of the big wooden bed.
Sleep, a gypsy, scattered stars on unspoken lands.
Amidst the voiceless silence, the clock goes tick, tock and bang.

The window keeps thumping like a bat flapping its wings.
The strong wind outside heralds the coming of thunderstorm,
curtains swing.
Light and flashes start twisting and curving
on the narrow white walls.
Distorted ghosts swirling, robed in the dark red curtains
on the floor and doors;
Torrents of rain, gushing water splashing unmelodious crescendo,
flooding wet her flowery pillow.
The wind chime clatters and shrieks with all its might.
Time to shut the glass window tight;
The drumbeats in her heart go wild in sync,
Whirring and clanging the broken stand fan swings,
Mirror on the wall sneers ridiculing her face;
Thoughts juggling in an uncanny pace,

The phone bell rings and she springs;
To take the call, she has to find the thing.

Crash!
Fragrant bottle falls on the floor.
Red droplets fall drip drop, drop.

‘I am sorry,’ the voice calls.

The gusty wind now softly blows.
Her eyes are misty, hopes aglow.
Musical melodious rain and ravishing snow
The Robin on the fancy clock strikes midnight.

Dreamily, she falls on her bed. Night is bright.
Flashing sparkling fireflies,
Scented air fills magical moonlight.
The wind chime sings a lullaby,
Dreamy sparkling eyes; she sighs.
Softly in the arms of silence, she lies.
Dazzling stars in the sky.