when the night slips quietly into morning

when night slips quietly into morning
she does not whisper
her arrival
who was awaiting always
outside my window, the moist breeze
which will not stop the moving curtains
and will not let dryness of my throat be hidden
i am in wait here, once again
stars are witness
to the serenity that prevails
outside my house now

the doors have been eaten away by termites
and the windows panes are broken
but the rod on which once curtains hung
is still there,

is still there

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