The summer night
Sometimes as the night falls from the sky
and the clouds hide the pale moon
and the silence settles inside and out
the unfinished dream of a summer night
wakes up to the fragrance of the white jasmines
scattered across the green.
It brings with it the memory of a starry night
back home with the laughter of the neighbours
who played backgammon through the night
and the thunder of music
flew from the tall branches.
Sometimes I hear the moezen’s chants
from the mosque nearby
inviting the believers in,
unaware that none is left in town.
Should we return one day
in a summer night
what do you think has remained
of the dreams we once had
and then burnt in the chaos of nothingness?