Your Photograph at Two o' clock

At two 'o clock in the night nothing seems all right
The eyes are dreaming
And the unfulfilled unfathomable waters of wants
Strike the images to shards.

No one comes
And every one goes
The dreams play in a reverse order.

I have a photograph of yours
You look very fine in it
But I have stolen it from somewhere .

I see it sometimes.

The hushed realities of your eyes
Keeps my flame alive
You infect people
Your enthusiasm infects.