A Walk In Midnight Poem by Md. Ziaul Haque

Sleep, the brother of death,
Has left me while the moon was on her path,
Watching every move smilingly,
I dragged myself to the window to see.

The night seems to have organised a fair,
A scene so special and rare,
The leaves of trees have been painted black,
The death-like silence has got its kingdom back!

All appears to be a part of painting,
Still like a doll with no battery and I am the king,
A hungry owl dislikes silence much so,
Hoots at times yet keen not to let the rat go!

I listen to nothing else,
Other than the breathing-sound of myself,
The moon is my torch,
Onward I see and march.

Perhaps in the dead of the night,
Nature lays bare its right,
To enjoy themselves the most in utter silence,
By pulling down the shutter of dark fence.