Houses Which Were Homes
Houses come and go
like shadows hovering
in the sunset mood.
opens the secret codes.
The cities in the memories
expand and open
the black-holes and greet the sun
Houses come and go
but the walls, whitewashed,
are still the same.
There are those patches on the wall
shining brighter still
where once was hung a picture frame,
and the kitchen is just the same.
The aroma of spring
blends with the wind.
Hunger awakens for
the messages of seasons.
The teapot dances on the old stove,
the morning is full of sounds
and the best of all is the sound
of tea getting poured into white chipped off mugs.
The abstruse geometry of the mind
opens the secret codes
and the entry points
are all along the lines
which I believed were washed away
in the Lethe-ward flow of time.
O the nostalgic mind, stay quiet;
do not shake the roots of the tree.
5years ago.
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