When the sole people
You call your own
Will go, one after the other;
They will go you know,
The house will wear the silence of death,
You can break it though with
The blaring of television or digging deep into
a popular best-seller.
The shapeless will haunt you with their unseen
presence, with their movements
and their old monotonously familiar gestures,
A few distantly known faces will drop in
At times, and you will see and hear
Patches of good life
In their voices and faces.
At the dawn of the night, silence will spread its
blue wings and loneliness will pounce
Upon you like a carnivore,
The faces of the two gardeners
Who nurtured you will flash and flash,
Drowning you in tears.
You will fall asleep towards the end of the night,
Clutching at the image of an insane person
And the distantly visible memories
Of love-soaked moments,
Which time will be trying to snatch away
From your psyche,
The only moments you lived
In transformation of a dream woman
Bustling about doing things for some loved one,
Wearing the wings of undying
and unfathomable love.
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