Every room has a story to tell. This wistful poem by Anagha Rajesh, a budding poet from UAE, wonders about a room that has seen many an experience pass by it.
The room next door has been dead
For a year and half
Or maybe more
She looks upon her twin with envy
Longing for laughter and childish glee,
Here and there a friendly fight,
Tit-bits of anger, pain and grief.
The room next door has grown old,
Lending ears and eyes to many a shape of humanity
While her twin has formed an unbreakable bond
With the foursome that fills her soul.
The room next door watches the wall clock tick
Counting every milli second of every hour of every day
Opening her hands and heart so warm
To welcome another strand of human touch.
At the very beginning of time,
Her soul housed an elderly couple
They lived and loved in eternal bliss
Until they parted ways with the room next door.
Into their shoes came a bunch of youth
With dreams in their eyes and goals in their mind
The void they left behind was filled by a family of ten
Wailing tots, scurrying mum and an almost invisible dad
Made every little event a festival to cherish.
As they stepped out drowned in sorrow
In came a business man
With his family of four
Who lived or perhaps didn’t.
Never a barrier broken, never a voice truly voiced,
The bunch of human strands
Who lived or perhaps didn’t.
Soaked in debt and cursed by creditors
They sneaked out one fine night
Not a tear, not a goodbye
The room next door was left to die
Since that day the room next door
Has been dead for a year and a half
Or perhaps more.
More to read in Poems
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