That house stands there
for ages on end-
It's deserted and lonely,
No human forms or shapes
inhabit it anymore.
Its crumbling walls
and decadent floors
speak of years gone by.
The sketches on the floor,
the broken tap
at the backyard speak
of children who once
played at the now vacant
open courtyard,
are now residents
to creepers and hedges
nestling young birds
who are learning to
open their eyes.
The beaming sunlight
enters through
the slits of windows
which are closed forever
trapping those infinite memories
lest they escape by.
Those high-end ceilings
where once fans dangled from,
are now ridden with holes,
chunks of which have fallen
with passing time.
The house was once
someone's dream,
someone's blood and sweat-
Yet, as ephemeral as life is,
as it stands the tests of time,
the house is now
devoid of soul and purpose,
of hearty laughter and joy,
of guileless love and chatter.
Screeching of pans,
shouts of maids washing
soiled clothes under that tap,
broken by a ball thrown
by a mischievous lad
of the household are
now long gone and forgotten.
The table with lame legs
in that small room,
was once filled with
books and inkpot
is no more.
That forbidden house of dreams
is now deserted like an old...
By Nandini Sengupta
@metaphors_of_life