A nocturnal’s fantasy,

A night in full blossoming finality,

A lull a flight in the swooshing trees,

Ruling colossally,

The skeleton branches grasp for the canopy of night desperately.

Bustle is tucked away,

A rustle of spiced leaves disobey,

The envouring darkness consumes all,

Save for solemnity.

Snug and cosy,

A hugging tranquility guzzling all the homes heartedly,

Raindrops prevail with a pitter patter,

The howling behind window panes tell a tale.

For there was a star,

Twinkling bizarre,

A memoir of its self-doubt.

However,

I’m the treasured serenity,

Cat kingdom basking in the moonlit crevices heavenly,

What was adequate illuminated now celestially,

An amulet haze betoken on the canopied land,

Picturesque as a starry-eyed artist’s gaze,

A flicker of assurance lingers promisingly.

Radiant in rapture,

Flickers but a phantom of a dream,

A sliver of belief radiates gingerly,

Hesitantly cautious but a gleam with enlightened relief.

And then it snickers unwaveringly,

A multitude of clustering stars brimming with deludency,

Cunning in reopening phantoms of scars,

Humming it’s inadequacies.

Brighter, they prevail,

No need to detail it’s outsider crumble,

No need to detail it’s fumble mumble,

It’s receding linger and fumble.

The howling hastes,

Having concluded it’s tale,

Still snug and cosy,

The houses frown and pout with nosy,

But the star remains scared,

A flicker no more,

A snicker can be heard rattling the windows triumphantly.