That night

That night,

Looking at reflection of  

beautiful moon,

In flowing river

Where fireflies was dancing 

On songs of night insects.

My head on his shoulder,

Holding hands,

With silence ,

Telling stories of past

Without any lies,

With some tears in eyes,

Understanding each others

tragedies of life,

pleasant wind blowing 

like it was also hearing us,

 I fell asleep on his shoulder

It was as soft as my pillow.

.

.

Soon I realise its  my own pillow 

When my alarm clock rings,

all my fantasy burst like a balloon.