Another day begins

The demure night stands at the threshhold,
A lover ready to depart, yet lingering
for a few moments more, the imposter day
devours her slowly, while the sky
blushes at the edges.
In the half-dark light, shadows
appear real, reality decieves the eye,
Its a time for illusions and phantoms
to walk the streets, a time for stories
half-begun, and legends laid to rest.

Bylanes begin to breathe, breathless
stragglers falter at shops that rest
at dawn, thin lines of smoke
curl upwards, staining the sky
with a bitter hunger-smell,
Homes are rolled up on pavements,
Newspapers fall like rain on waiting doorsteps,
Steam from sweet, warm tea, alive
like the body of a loved one,
sizzles in corner shops, as dogs chase
women at municipal taps, gurgling
as they grudgingly part with a thin stream,
Like benediction from an ungrateful God.

In a twelfth floor apartment, the first rays
of dawn filter through the blinds, illuminating
her face, as she stretches languidly, rubs
the sleep off her eyes, and also
the last traces of a dream, dreamt
long ago, and repeated ever since,
every night, a dream fragile like camphor
that evaporates with the sun.

Shedding her sleep and dreams, she rises,
Sustained by the night, resilient yet again,
She draws the blinds aside, allowing
stories to drift away, the day to pour in.
Haunted no longer by ghosts of the night,
The city wakes up in her eyes,
Another day begins.