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Ode to Niteangle
Like an enchanted west wind, your presence is expected,
To enlighten a longing heart, that is perpetually jaded,
Carried by the chariot of good hopes, when all seems Faded,
Shrouded in the glum, yet towards your whiff I am headed.
Inadvertently consumed by the rustic charm of your glow,
Painting my town by the colours wherever they flow,
Drowning my daemons and embracing the angels, I spread,
Like the grace and flight of the hair uplifted from your head,
Amidst the flailed chasms of my presence, there lies your hope,
Nothing will keep me away from reaching you, if there is a rope,
Chained and bowed to heavy weight of the hour, I see a chance,
The silver line in the darkest of the clouds, oh! Your mighty nuance.