After The Tempest

The night encroached knocking the door,
And when the bolt unbolted, the sound mixed
Into bawl of the distant dogs.
The sun dove,
Then from behind a twig of an olive,
I began to gawk to the lake;
The laughing huddled lotus,
Were whispering to one another;
The air rounded headlong,
The night stared at the long shadow
Of the thick tall tree;
I returned to the room,
Sighs of the night, sprawled on my bed,
Mixed merged into my sensation;
And the glassy-crumbs
That escaped from hands of the night,
I collected them all,
To compose this poem.

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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