Dew Drops On A Grass Blade

Lonely, amidst the dark

I hear the silent rustle of the leaves.

I stare at the dim outline of the twigs.

The glaring eyes of the night-prowler,

Shine through, gleaming of aura.

The moonlight shimmers,

A distant howl accentuating the tone.

A sharp silhouette walking across the terrain.

And a squeaky silence emerging again.

A drop trickles from atop,

Awakening my friends.

There’s no gush, no spurt, no rush.

Benign calm settled.

Satisfied heavens beckoning.

Then, the silent rays of light,

Emerging, and calling,

For the pre-destined end.

As yet another day sets in,

We look forward to our demise,

Sooner than earlier,

And, yet, gleaming with pride,

Are we, my friends and I.

‘cause we are mere dew-drops on a grass blade .

P.S. :- The title of the poem was suggested as blog-topic by a class mate...