Night Bird

By Sindhu Verma

A meager moon slips down the sky,

Dim are the twinkles in the eye.

What is this a good time for?

What's this time any good for?

Churning in pain, time runs by.

Burning in vain, time runs by.

A few hours until the morning light,

Till dew drops, birds, colors in sight.

What is this good hope for?

What's this hope any good for?

The sun owns the day, I just have the night.

The sun loans the day, so my sky isn't bright.

The day is fickle, the night an ally.

I plod through the dark, I grope and cry.

What is good sleep for?

What is sleep any good for?

I shut my eyes to the day's garish lie.

I live my truth, feel my pain, love my sky.

By Sindhu Verma