confabulation

a song, somnolent. the moon, 

wistful. 

a wind, flagrant, redolent of 

the leaves

pale, plucked off,

sail down. down.

a song, atremble.

the moon reminisces 

of the nights,

starlit.

the moon 

fumbles a night, a song, 

a tremolo.

refrains

“.. inebriated words do not tread on a straight path” he doled out those words as he kept his glass of wine the round base of which fused with a slender stem he has been holding in his long fingers, and above a vertical expanse of a red liquid with mild hues of rust, same as the color of his lips, was swaying a moment ago; a speck of the stubble on his face glowed for a fleeting second, and as he repeated his words, demurely, the crow’s feet were visible again with tens of moons in his eyes.