A Night's Tale

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Once I stood on the window-pane,

Looking at the down-town lane.

Wintry winds came along,

With the thought of retain

The sharp, jagged pain.

I heard a night-bird sing,

Mocking with the chilly sting.

I tried hard to know,

For what it sang

The song or I call it pang.

Mesmerized with the cold itself,

I found a way of help,

For me, an insomniac

It filled me with drowsiness,

Countless dreams it phrased.

I took my way to the bed,

I know not what led

Me to the dreams of verse,

Captivated all my words,

And jotted down the rhymed chords.

I stopped and looked back,

Turned out a dash of lag,

I stepped tip-toed

To the casement swift,

To dig for my midnight-gift.

A winter night was there for me,

A charm of poesy was still in me.

Starry winter felt so new,

My scarlet window stood alone,

So was I, a supple heart of stone.

I looked again through it,

A yellow thought lit

Out of the blue; it made

Me, utterly enticed,

My hidden senses surprised.

I was, now I think,

Blessed with a flaw, distinct

A perfect sleepless night

Resuscitated me, till

The night was young and still.

I gazed at the darkest night,

My repressed soul took flight,

After the weariest rest

My poesy resurrected,

Myself had I corrected.

This is shared with Poetry Pantry #117 .