Accustomed lines

Beneath the huge

Night sky,

There are only those

Dark palms – fingering.

Jumping silver fish.

Startling.

The inky flow carries

A stray fisherman.

It’s easy to see you

With my closed eyes

In the midst of

Mirth and merry making.

Wistfully, I look-

The smile playing on your face,

The frosted glass between us.

Always just outside,

The steady flow of your life
.

Beneath the darkness,

And, the dim stars,

I idly connect the dots

And see dull

Predictable patterns.

A poem that I wrote. Appreciate your comments.