All night the raindrops scatter and fall apart.
We stand by the window; a night bird cries
The river bank has become desolate; hidden stars
drop unknown sticks obscured by denials.
Drifting away from the shore,
under the oppressive sky
those painted fishing boats turn motionless.
And the wafting smell of the wet earth lingers
the paper boats cruise along the street,
the pavement will now be cleansed of lies,
Whispers slip out from the parapet,
there will be no more burning timbers to light a fire
amidst the memory of wet leaves.
We remain there; listening to rain
falling from the tall trees,
draw images of silent words-
the lights we dislocated long back start to fill up our palms.
All night the raindrops weave love and light.