The Evening Star
I rushed towards my little bed
And lay down by the window pane.
The wind was sharp, chilly and fresh,
My eyes penetrating the vacancy of the night
To have a glimpse of my friend up high
My stories awaiting her —
My oldest friend, the evening star.
I poured my heart out to her,
She stood there with a pale grace.
We weaved stories together,
Became the best of mates.
The wind was blowing stronger, I was cozy in my bed,
All the streetlights went out, she didn't fade.
Some nights, it's just the Venus and me,
Some days, someone who listens is all we seek.
The writer is a first year student at Dhaka Medical College.
Comments