Suppose you move into a new house,
an old dilapidated house lying vacant,
for so many days, and you selected it,
you wanted to be a part of those memories,
the layers of dust and the spider who freely,
built cobwebs in it.
You take the key and open the vacant room,
a gust of soot dances over your face, and you cough,
the faded cushions and the wilted curtains welcome you,
a heartbroken radio and mice-infested paintings stare at you.
The room, all the rooms, the house has been standing for so long,
holding inside it all the emptiness, a void, lots of silence,
containing so many unheard stories of loneliness sewn together,
waiting for you to wear.
About the Creator
somsubhra banerjee
Loves mountains, sea waves, old buildings, petrichor, sound of night crickets, haiku, kintsukuroi , books, dogs, silences and also cacophonies!
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