Moody

It was slightly breezy and also moderately cold; and elusively withdrawn

A clear starry night dressed with slice of moon and Venus far behind.

I spotted him down the ill lit lane a bit away from my home,

May be trying to find out some corner where he can be alone.

Closely I was observing him from my half opened window through frosty fern,

He hastily burned a match stick to fire a charcoal on a conked out iron urn;

And sat on the broken stone facing a powerless bulb which was dimly on.

He was scrolling up and down, scribbling through the key board…

He may be trying to weave a message using words for drove

That seeped up from sub conscience to conscience mental lobe.

I was seeing his deliberation, holding warily the laptop line;

He was generating a lively beckon that has touched my sleepy eon.

I didn’t want to wake up; I was enjoying my reverie;

I was receding, drifting towards an undefined flow,

I slowly closed the window stopping cold wind to blow;

It was boring cold night; shoddily I opened a book strewn on the floor,