In the rambles of the night
Glows a dull, fluorescent light.
As black shutter-gates close
And the library begins to doze.
Conversations take random turns
And opinions, in the heart, feverishly burn.
Voices rise and fall.
In the background, frogs call.
Everyone has someone to talk to
And someone to go to.
In the middle of darkness
Is a light-featheredness.
Because feet ramble
And the clicking cycle-pedals-
Whirring wheels of a silent vehicle-
Speak of a moment so magical.
Two strangers become friends,
And speak of random ways and ends.
Under trees that glitter green,
Under the moon's yellow sheen,
Coldness is substituted by the tea's steam,
And warm narrations' soft gleam.
Unimportant, inconsequential words tumble out
And silently dance and waltz about.
The night is complete: perfect, absolute.
At the end of words is solitude.
And two pairs of feet take leave and part,
And in departing, pedals restart.
On the faces of two not-so-acquainted friends
A laugh quietly echoes; a smile begins.
PS: This was written on 18-08-2010. The general feedback for this poem has been that it isn't that comprehensible. This might be owing to the fact that I had written this based on an evening/night spent with a person who became my friend, and this was a sequence of events...