Stood the door ajar,
at sight, from where I lay…
a calling to demystify
the paradoxes of the world outside,
when the clouds made their mind
whether to pour…

“Ab koi nahi rehta waha”
nobody lives there anymore,
said my understanding of the old monument,
and said my eyes, that
the bricks and mortar employed there
where now a property of the rusty lock, that
held the door from opening,
to once the memories of a Home.

But probably, the rain
wanted no more to weaken the lock,
for if the lock would wither away,
the memories would be lost…
and the clouds shall bear the guilt,
as burden more,
only to pour down tomorrow,
as the rains of sorrow…




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