Music Of Dark. Poem by Afzal Juneja

A street full of hunters with empty guns,
And the birds were scared to swing their wings.
An accordionist plays polka in the corner,
But doesn't know what to sing.

A canary was freed but petrified with change,
While faces were similar, everywhere I went.
Her fingers​​ still detests, the grip of a pencil,
Strangely, paint brush was her best friend.

A boy was alive with his words, pen, and paper,
But the ink-pot ran out of ink.
Curiosity and hope walks hand in hand,
While faith lies in a single wink.

As the daylight sync the rhythm of reasons,
At night, shadow-claws disinfect my brain.
Rhymes and phrases, I am not that good at this,
But question-mark always looks keen with exclaim.

Stars were glittering and the moon was full,
But the wolves were still quiet.
A board full of colors with every shade,
But all you can see is white.​
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