They rest
With pale shadows
Gazing at the changing horizons
Haunting me.
I can’t hear
The echo of my heart
Lost in the exasperating crowd.
My ancestors lived in them.
The ever widening roads
And pigeon holes
Brushed them away.
They are now ruins!
We engrave
Our beloved ones names
On their walls
Spit ugly colors
But they still
Gaze at my offspring and murmur
“This was an abode of ours”

Satya Srinivas

Copyright © Satya Srinivas

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Also at: Satya Srinivas’s blog

Disclaimer: The image used herein is taken from the Internet. Due appreciation and credit is acknowledged for the same.

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