We need not trace fingers in sand grains
To count stars that flickered for counting.
We feel exempted from the star counting
Like the soldiers-to -be with lesser chests .
Chests heaved with an unnecessary pride
As night climbed over heads under trees
With stars above them ,in danger of falling.
We have lost count of their broken pieces,
That have turned fireflies in old counting.
We lie under a dark cloth of promontory
Thinking of several stars lost to the night.
There is nobody to count them this night.