CALICUT, June 19, 2013 - As the Day gears up to bask in yet another of its glorified moments, the Night wonders when in its day it had the last laugh.
The ancient day spreads out in glorified hues,
Asserting its ascendancy, with an inside track,
It pauses its light in quiet anticipation,
As raindrops purr in dogged fashion,
Taking a leaf out of every reigning book,
Temperature toils up and down a steep path,
Fettered by strings of wandering clouds,
Where fury and intimacy unite in mild showers,
Watering down the bitterness of sour grapes,
And beating the daylights in moist undertones,
Impassioned- another day begins in humble earnest,
The climate was somber and the day was bright,
Furnishing the memories of a summer gone by,
Cleaving to the day- the night throws in the towel,
Complementing its foe; to survive the losing glory,
Haplessly wondering that in its day-it had the last laugh,
Of moonlit nights that were met with thunderous appeal,
Ah, my day will come and I’ll play more than comely host,
To the wretched day who will melt in my glory,
And bask in the enticing sunshine of a lonely road.
Vishwas Anand of Bangalore is a published poet and writer. He currently writes at his own blog column as well.
This article is the copyrighted property of the writer and Communities @ WashingtonTimes.com. Written permission must be obtained before reprint in online or print media. REPRINTING TWTC CONTENT WITHOUT PERMISSION AND/OR PAYMENT IS THEFT AND PUNISHABLE BY LAW.