I remember that it is an empty nest
No noise, no familiar voices
waiting for me,
Mother ,for whom I bought oranges and grapes from the bus stop
is not anymore there to feign displeasure and be happy inside.
There is no blabbering of maids,
no familiar sight of two beloved people
watching television and raising their
voices,one over another, no peaceful
random sleeping anymore
aware of usual presence of two
insomniac souls.
This way,homes empty themselves
This way,life turns a stranger
This way I walk in the rain,
And come back to cry alone
in my loneliness.
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