The Song Of The Quiet

the evening was calm,

the dark made it feel quieter,

the breeze that melted me up,
and drifted me to a distant world,

my senses almost turning numb,

as if everything around slowed down:

even time wasn't in a hurry,

the wall clock's ticks

were the only sounds you could hear,

unhurried, 

maybe tired, 

maybe a rest long overdue!

the air wore a sweetness,

gentle, soothing, and silky

a new muse, you'd missed so long,

the sweetness you'd fall for,
all over again,

the air hummed softly, 

only a willing heart could hear,

a beat for a beat,  a call as if in love -

that brought back memories

of the setting sun,

the ringing of the bells

from the retreating carts

the smiles on the dry, pan soaked lips
yet smiling frames

and the dancing silhouettes 

played hide-and-seek

maybe tired, 

but in no mood to give up!

the evening grew chill,

and the skies darker,

the winds became gustier, 

like the summers

from eons back

as the crickets chirped and the frogs barked,

i loved them all, 

the song of the quiet,
the chill, the pace and the peace

slowed me down, 

yet raced my heart, sometimes
the ebb and flow,

a bit of fear, and then a glimmer of hope,

until the mist drops of the early hours

faded the smile,
as i opened my eyes,

as i sat in my balcony, gazing at the starry sky,

listening to the song of the quiet

with the wall clock's ticks,

the only sound you could hear,

unhurried, 

maybe tired, 

maybe, the rest long overdue.

© sashikant mohanty