Streets rock in cradles so softly and dreamily,
Fog diapers them for the night.
Bottomless shadows are sweeping and thickening,
The light finds no shelter to hide.
Tree-tops gleam faintly with sparkles sanded over them
Touched with molasses and gold.
Spheres of lanterns keep milkily glowing,
Whispering stories of old.
Crisp in the day-time, shaped bushes convert themselves
Into a mess of dark shades.
Half-drawn curtains have caught misty flickerings
Playing their intricate games.
Dampness… the balcony doors stay wide open
Let the night peer inside;
Smoothed by slow slumber, insults long forgotten
Are flowing out of mind.