Cool winter winds 

Carry stories untold

Through cracks in my curtains.

A quiet lovers' quarrel,

A sleeplessly sobbing child.

The low hum of television static

Mera jeevan toh hai tera saaya.

Clocks tick in homes asleep.

Plates clink at late dinners and

Shutters close as shop-

Keepers lock up before

Turning in.

Neighbourhood chachas walk

The cemented pavement,

An unfinished pack of death sticks in hand.

The blare of sudden Toyotas intrudes

Into the perpetual hush.

The nocturnal own these streets now.

A blanketing fog dismembers

The neighbourhood as I lay beneath

Blankets of my own but

I am one with it all

The same and this winter,

If there were more hours in the day

I'd spend them wishing

For less.

The writer is a grade 11 student of Cantonment English School and College, Chattogram.