Poets and such nights!

                      Poets and such nights!
    

 How many poets,
have written of such hopeless nights?
Nights when the stillness of the skies,
Crept into their writing tools
And they ceased to write!

Have they lived through such nights?
Nights that seemed beautiful in their stillness,
That they'd lie back and close their eyes,
And pray.. pray for the ink in their bottles
to be poured into their veins
Such that they'd pick their pens and write
Write about the stillness of the night!

Or have they searched the empty walls?
Or the lizard creeping through the windows
Searching for some movement that'd wake their pens
And help them leave their fairy dusts,
On sheets of white!

But oh! Like fireflies would they light this night,
Their breaths would breathe in
life into such lifeless nights!
With their pens laid still
and their heads in rest
Their golden glow will ever illuminate
the dark night!

The stillness can't freeze the poet's soul,
As he falls to sleep
His eyelids heaved down
With the intoxicating scent of poetry!