Thursday, September 15, 2011

A deserted house

Moss on the walls,
Windows that are holes,
The red tiles on the roof,
Have lived days with the sun and the rain,
The walls are fiercely silent
May have been a sanatorium or a lunatic asylum
Does the green tree know about the house?
I looked for doors
Strangely, there were none,
It stood mute,
Cold unaware,
The bricks may have sound entrapped in them,
But the house refused to let anyone hear the rhythm,
It may have stood there for ages,
And may stand like this for ages,
Ensnared in time,
Wrapped in silence,
I stay in this house.

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