Who has stolen- borrowed maybe better-

The shadows leaking from moon's ether pouch,

Abreast her scabbard, above her fetter

That drags her and rattles during her slouch

Shadows with moonlit-moonlight's overlay,

Tumbling, falling, to a hell above hell,

My rot windowsill, onto which they fell,

Is yelling 'thief!' at the arriving day.

The ebony lake, with lustrous flowers,

Is spilled drop by drop, a pro tem demise,

Like lies, and doubts, from true hearted lovers,

Vanished! Or like I say- behind my eyes.

Who has ruffled the treehouse of fairies?

O vile bottle laden fairy hawker,

Is it you, and your hovering stalker?

Why isn't today the day your game varies!

In this forest's virginal paradise,

In which lay scattered spring wisdom's letters.

Comes a cosmic lawnmower from the skies,

Which collects these gems for autumn sweaters.

I ask you, lady night, to show your whole

Gemmed nakedness tonight, for I know not

The crossroad at which, these dreams turn their plot,

And open doors of distance within my soul

~Ajay
26/2/18