I Dreamt Of Night Jasmine

By Dr Smita Sriwastav

A million eyes doze

on the indigo dreams

of insomniac night, spinning

silver tales on lunar loom with

whimsical cotton wool clouds~

Unseen in

the smog-lorn city

intoxicated by noise waltzing

on grave of quietude,

yet solitude haunting everyone.

I dream of

night jasmines ~ white and amber

spawned by

infatuations of siren night

and juvenile morn,

their blossoms drizzling

down to pepper

my face in scented kisses.

I fill them in my palms

and throw them high and wide,

on dew stud verdure,

to be scattered on the veil

of vermilion dawn~

roseate bride of the sun.

Happiness

is like streaming fireflies,

floating as constellations

in the silhouetted corridors

of brooding dusk~

elusive and transient.

You flow

down flushed cheeks in silence~

brine divorced by sobs,

your hold on my finger loosens

as nascent smile blends

into the poetry of sunshine.

You dissolve

as the crescent sliver of moon,

finding salvation

in the radiance of daylight

and the dewdrops

devoured by a parched breeze...devoured by a parched breeze...Top of Form

By Dr Smita Sriwastav