Faces Inside A Window Poem by Gautami Phookan

The only sound, whistle of a quail;
That breaks in upon the tranquility.
From the treetops glows the yellow moon,
Suddenly tossed, as a draught twists through
The golden leaves hung loose from the trees.
A cold blowing mist through the narrow streets,
Past the windows and past the broken panes;
You can see, their faces smiling pensively,
Inhaling the joys and fears of life.
Yearning with the ebbing light.
Partly patch'd, partly glaz'd;
Hearts rendered heavy and faint.
Yet, I see the light in their eyes,
Glowing with a rosy flame.