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 then

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?