The Knowing: Pieces of dazzle framed mirrors, On the aisles covered with fur. The names with charcoal on walls, Written with pain thats hard to suffer. The doors and the windows, Old enough to turn into walls. As if they lived long dreaming the odd, The clocks looked brittle and sad. I wonder if its my home or the fact, To know its hard to resurrect. Its always the past that counts in, To teach us how hard is living. It has no memory to greet me in, There is this harsh truth in making. As I walked away, I hear from the rear, The little smiles from its rooms. I know there is someone else here, I had to leave, for its own happiness. The doors and the windows, As old as my philosophy and ways. There is no place for love, In rooms of dogma with what we live. - Aroon Che The Wednesday Girl
Posted on: Tue, 02 Sep 2014 15:35:53 +0000
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