Away from neon lights & graffiti-ridden walls,
Lavished gardens & bustling market places,
There’s a narrow road,
Lined by profusely sad trees & their scheming shadows.
I feel, no bird would’ve ever made a nest there
Or no flower would’ve ever blossomed in branches of those trees,
Thousand or more lanterns together can’t illume its piercing darkness,
It’s condemned to be in an eternal haze.
Lights, here, just accentuate the silhouette of nights & dimness of mornings.
It’s been abandoned by seasons
And their artful volte face.
A fifth season of an aching turmoil
Has achieved a permanence in its frame, objects & foundation.
If the whole world starts living on this lane,
It would always be like a demolished city or a deserted village,
An eerie castle,
which has witnessed the massacre of its residents,
Or a small dwelling of fishermen,
Around the bank of a river,
View original post 138 more words