The Fading Night

The night silently weaves

countless dreams,

firmly holding,

crisscrossing the silky

colourful threads of wishes,

decorates them with

sequins of hope.

Night fades,

dreams die,

hopes disappear in

busy traffic of life,

the scorching heat of

daylight snatches away all

the wishes and pleasure.

The sweaty smell of hard luck

chokes the free flowing thoughts,

the lurking

desires do appear somewhere,

but, in no time 

like the bubbles they pop

and disappear with the

fading night.