Layla

That mystery
That spoke to me
In interrupted silence
A language so clear
And polluted
There's something about her
She comes alive in herself
Serene and superficial
Silent and deafening
Starry eyed when she appears clearly
Sheltering and exposing
Its as if sometimes
The rules don't apply to her
But still after dusk
She's at it again
What a sight in the city
She competes with it
For light
You know her name
At times I feel insane
Majnoon if you will
But I join a hundred others
Necks strained
And she has the time
For the lovers
Whisperers, screamers
And the ones barely breathing
The prayers
None prey after her
But many pray after her
Some cannot love her in her absence
And forget their odes to her later
And when she arrives again
She'll be the same Layla