Last Look Before Sleep

My days go with haste. Like the wind, time sweeps my hours. My fatigued legs, my fevered brain don't let me think over my pains and promises. Do I know what's there in front of my window? Nothing I see, except the dull buildings, which signify nothing, at that moment of busy sec. Even, I forget to see my face, though there are big mirrors before me. I cry for more time. You cry for me..... She cries for you.... Life is like this twisted and tattered, valuable yet valueless. I bear this earthly attire and wear my fake smile, which I never want to. But, my acquired loneliness which I gather from the day's crowd, drenches me with sweet N sour thought. My sleeping eyes, long to jump in bed. Still, My feet take me to the cool chair, allowing me to cast my last look to the poems of the precious poets, before sleep. This is the best gift I cherish to......