Animate Inanimate
P Pradip Chattopadhyay
0
Altın Yaprak
The house yawned at him
as he trudged to the gate
a warm wind rose from his bowel
and tore his heart out
the walls reflected an emptiness
as if they too mourned with him
the one face less
the one soul pouring heart's all kindness
forever gone
paused the son
his eyes grew wet with moisture of rain
the house would never be the same again!
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş