In midst of another sleepless night,
I saw from my window the army of inextricable stars,
Giggling-gushing-guffawing on my deep time-gifted scars.
The wagging moon unkind-unperturbed-unfazed was busy in his own affair,
As the clouds- sprinting like a teen covered him with an ensnaring flair.
I looked at the inflammatory moon and smiled with a tinge of discontent,
For it had treated me with disdain clad with an overriding intent.
Every night the wind lifts me from my window to the place where memories burn,
The fiascos reappear and the ashes of my soul get incarcerated in the urn!