Knock!

Wrapped in a silk robe
Of shining darkness,
She knocks at your door.

Her fancy bag promises
Rainbow gifts from a distant world,
But you know
Those are dreams from the past.

If you let her in,
The night will simmer
In her stories of dreams.
And its lurid layers
Will melt drop by drop.

Her mysterious tone
Will rise and fall,
You will ache
To catch a glimpse of her face.

Then she will be gone,
A lipstick stained wineglass,
A sweet surreal scent
Left to linger in the room.

So, you pretend deaf,
Behind bolted door.
Her knock; light and faint,
Dissolving in familiar noises.

But,
Can you stop
From looking out of the window
When those dreams
Run homeless in the streets?

She is knocking!

(c)Ankur Srivastava