The night

Attired in its   

shimmering and serrated stars,

the solemn night sky

turned to haunt him tonight

as he smoked earnestly

sidling against the window sill.

His room darkened,

night had diffused in.

His was a room,

silent like a lifeless bird

and

chaotic like a burnt jungle.

The night perceived it all,

those torn and scattered

Interview letters

portraying his world of dreams,

those astute glass bottles,

those empty ones,

the ones with whom he travelled his failures with,

the ones which had obliterated

his world of dreams,

his world of happiness.

The room dimmed darker

when dismal fumes rose

from the window sill

and the night feared,

it feared the dark in the smoker's life.

The night left,

lugging its fear

and once again

the sun pervaded.