Through the remnants of once-an-abode edifice
are materializing the last traces of memories,
See that corner on the right side
Isn’t it a witness of my smiles and worries?
Now in its ruins, it is the same ceiling
that I stupidly spent hours talking with,
about the lengthy details of my first adolescent feeling.
And the same ceiling consoled and cheered me when nobody did.
There by that wall stood my study table,
I still feel its presence in that very location.
Like it happened yesterday when I’d hid under the same table
And when my friends gathered here for my birthday celebration.
The once strong walls have now knelt down,
Turned into ruins, the beautiful nest where I’ve grown.
The caring ceiling has succumbed to the time-carved injuries.
Burying here with it are my long-cherished childhood memories.
But believe me it will not end like this,
Every time I’ll see birds returning to their premises,
A strong urge to rest in my dear home will strain my heart once again.
Every time I’ll revisit my childhood, you’ll take shape once again.
Note: This poem is a tribute to my old house (in the picture) that could not survive the wrath of weather this spring.