Take Me

The cold winter winds howl
under the dying amber glow of an ash coated moon.
It imparts a yellow tinge – a gift to the darkness,
when the whelmed blue stars
peek through black islands in the sky.
Soon the trees will stop to stooper
and the wind chimes that hang from wet porches,
Will murmur like teenage girls gossiping.
Sounds from miles away will coil up like your feet
over the fields and wind-stricken bogs pelted
by rain and frayed little mice waiting in their burrows
will scamper through walls with their folding flesh.
Bare feet but swiftly you will come
from over the purple hedges
and in to my bed to whisper gently in my ear, ‘I am here’.
With a nod I will close my eyes and let you take me
by the gray rimless sorrow of the night.

© Sameer Kashif