By Sumita Laha
The Lonely House
The bonding
Is as strong
As the deep roots of the trees
Wrapping up the crestfallen
Dilapidated house
In the midst
Of the empty street
Like an anchor
Clutching the boat
In the rough sea.
The tree shelters
A bird's next,
Where the mother
Warms up her eggs
With the hope
Of creating new lives
In the midst of the ruins.
The sun falls
As brightly as ever
On the rugged floor
Through the glass windows
And eases out the crease
From that forlorn look
Making it smile for once more.
But as soon
As the sun surrenders,
The abondoned house
Stands in chosen solitude
Against the clouded sky
Like a ghostly silhouette
Of some previous existence.
Inside the house
The lost voices echoed
In chorus with the
Broken furniture and crockery
And the flickering light
From the aged chandelier
Recreate the shadows of the unseen
Amidst the dust and the cobwebs.