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The Patio
On the patio, I saw a vision,
it was of a black dog.
Swimming in the ocean
I got caught in the motion,
flowing, flowing, flowing away.
The avens weren't as lively
as I remembered on my patio.
Sick to the stomach,
I fought the worms in the can
that I closed.
Mumbling and hesitating,
I was on the patio of my life.
Eyes flashed close when
I saw my home.
It was a sombre lie of
happiness.
But Blackie got running,
he wasn't coming in anymore.
Life is a whole lot flare,
and my wooden house is
a cabin of despair.
Maybe this patio was good once,
but now all left is 'now'.
But all that matters is 'now'.
And all that I built
is just a broken house.
Copyright ©
Apoorva Jha
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