Friday, 8 January 2010


The house it bares your signature,
Magnified and miniature,
Underneath the furniture
And in between the floors.

With colour scheme implausible,
Warm water where the air is cool,
Four bedrooms and a vestibule;
Who could ask for more?

Shaped by the noise of loneliness
That lends an air of holiness,
I pray to God not only this
Is keeping me in place.

The trash inside the yard is old,
Tree side animals behold
The mound beside the marigolds,
That’s taking too much space.

Carried by the once strong breeze,
Carpeted with blow ball seed,
Gently covered for the need
And over time to grow.

Late payment speeded up my fate,
I couldn’t contemplate the taste,
The landlord repossessed the place,
I wasn’t sad to go.

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