The tired symphony of silence

Is echoing aloud.

The night whispering poems;

The moon sleeping upon clouds.

I refill my cup again,

For i know how it longs

To feel the warm drops pouring;

As if they are composing a song.

I grab a piece of paper

To unleash my sixth finger,

Writing few words;

Feeding the lines' hunger.

I take another sip,

For a little more to empty

My cardamom flavoured

Cup of brown tea.

As i take a look around,

Everyone is fast asleep;

My untouched pillow tempts me

To surrender to deep sleep.

Instead, I pour second cup,

For the night just begun.

I need to stay awake,

Till i again see the sun.

© 2018 Emaan Khan