The window creaks every night,
Yearning for that unknown being;
To come with love and pure delight
And life add to this useless thing.
So many travellers come this way,
Passing the threshold- thrilled and old;
To bargain and ruin, tinker and play
With something that is usually sold.
The vacant walls and murmuring fan
See my pain and oft protest;
And the mirror- like a decent man-
Closes its eyes before the zest.
My friends these are, childhood friends,
I have grown up watching all their face;
They have been with me while Fate offends
As I stay in this sordid place.
While my eyes retire to sleep,
I hear the window creaking again;
That ignites dreams- sweet and deep-
To get out of this world profane.
When will He come riding the breeze,
Clad with clouds, with a new dream:
And will flick all my tears with ease
And take me far along with Him.
Debasish Mishra
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-whore-s-dream/
