Wednesday, July 4, 2012


In Solitude

She waits for me, my house.

When I am late

She glooms

On arrival

She blooms and sighs

She opens her bosom

Cool floor and warm roof

Twirling curtains

Entrances to various parts of mind

Beds of love, Shawls of lust

Cradles of affection, Mirrors of insight

Grinders of obstinacy, Hangers of woefulness

It is bedroom with an aura of love

Kitchen with an aura of sumptuous life

Labor room with an aura of fulfillment

Library with an aura of thirst

Toilet with an aura of redemption

It is the lawn

With an aura of play and laugh

The porch with an aura of momentum

And footpath with an aura of past journeys

Shelves have books

Racks toys and medallions

Stairs handles of statues

And doors have dreams carved on

She floats me in heavenly silence

Loud with melodies of memories

She protects me from ethereal silence

Screeching songs of greed and filth

Windows shut themselves in stormy nights

And open in sunshine and moon

Walls creep on desires

Paintings whisper their secrets

Collages their pains

Photographs their exact moments

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