The night was sombre and still,
It was a dark and dreary fill.
No stars to twinkle and thrill,
Bereft of special delight and frill.
The house was in a deep silence,
Everyone was asleep by preference,
There was no possible reference,
But there existed a plausible observance .
Disquieting the sullen eloquence,
A shrill ring triggered from a distance,
Awakening the household in deference,
Jolting everyone to incoherence.
Fumbling I make it to the phone,
Tumbling I respond in a subdued tone,
To a shrill voice strange and unknown,
While the caller dropped the receiver down.
Cursing the unfamiliar voice,
I go back without a choice,
To my bed with no rejoice,
Seeking a fresh and delicate 
invoice.
Meenas Poems 