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Poem


"Though old and dilapidated, one's dear home can never be empty. It will be full of memories- sweet and sour- a snapshot out of time that talks aloud of happy memories. Even amid the hovering gloom, it emanates a sweet fragrance of love and warmth" ~ By Poet


To this decrepit house,
with walls well worn,
I come so often in my memory.
Once it throbbed with life
but now lies deserted.

It was built with experienced hands,
brick on brick with the cement of love,
within whose walls, we were born and bred,
crying and whining, prattling and laughing.
Here we shared a thousand mingled thoughts,
a hundred hopes, dreams and fears.
Saw the dawn of placid summer morns,
and the descent of cold winter nights.

The ones who lived here are all gone.
Some to, far off countries and climes.
Some exited out of life in time, 
leaving a handful of sweet and sour memories.

The house now lies deserted
like many others with a similar plight.

Its once strong foundation is shaking 
with a warning of an imminent collapse.
Faded light seeps through every crack.
The blue paint on its walls is chipping off.
The rusted roof is caving in, allowing rain
to sodden the ground and the interior,
etching mildew designs on the walls.
Shadows wander from room to room.

The path is overgrown with weeds
Worn wind chimes still glisten in the sun.
On the roof, weeds strike roots,
in the hope of becoming trees.

This decrepit house, now stays
amid thick growing shrubs
and trees bending down their arms
to hide it from human sight.

But who can cover it from my mind's eye
as its image remains a haunting memory
unable to be erased or blotted out!

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