Naughty shadows, like wayward clouds
they cast a spell……
With full of yearnings and ambitions
For some
It is the survival!

The precincts and the back lanes
the villas and the alleys
filled with aesthetic thespians
the white, the black, and the brown
and they all look alike in the nightfall
in that beautiful night

factories chimney out the agony
the dying day leaves with sad shades
the Maiden Evening robed in gold
embarks in boundless shadows

who overhauls  these pleasure workers
there are unwritten stories in their  eyelids
there are untold sagas  behind their eyebrows

here and there is a song
striving to colour these shadows
but it is the curves that matter

Late in the night
Silence nurses the wounds
Only to shape the distorted figure
Next day
It’s a new shadow of an old body