Walls groan and
Staircases sigh.
The ceiling rat-a-tats
With fictional marbles.
Doors whine,
Reminiscent of the old.
Curtains quarrel
So as to invite stories.
A dilapidated house.
It clings to its inhabitants.
It lives long after they are gone.
It sleeps blanketed by their memories.
And wakes again, ready for more.

 

– Meera

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