Two Old Houses
Away from mismatched buildings which seems to go on above the 7th heaven with perfect shape and structure yet with poorest enlightenment, there is a pretty yet petty little small town at the edge of the waters.
Away from cold hearts handling warm coffee sitting in crisp winter air, there is a town with warm hearts handling cold coffee in peaceful summer air.
A bit too far away from here in that pretty little town, there is a street with perfect enlightenment and finally in that street, there stands two houses proudly facing each other since 1987.
One house Is bold white and the other one is dull black with same structure, same kind of tulips in their garden which sway slightly in the same air as they nod each other greetings in the morning.
Yet unbelievably everything is so different.
The dull black house consists of a huge family with no father, a father who now resides a few feet under the ground peacefully. His grave’s situated just at the corner of the street.
He’s so close to his family yet so far away...
And the bold White House consists of a father with no children. Each of them lives somewhere in a world rushed of money, power and desire which is indeed far away from here.
On a late evening, he sees two little girls dancing on the road. He is tempted to scold them politely as they dodge cars on the street and their laugh chases the fear in them away.
But he stays inside on his couch and drink his temptations with whiskey and wine when he knows he is already too drunk on his overwhelming feelings.
The two little girls watches a silhouette of this strange old man whose watching the same show as their father used to watch every night. They are tempted to go inside and sit and laugh with the man while he watches the witty good ol’ show.
But none of them moves, none of them laughs.
They instead take a long, long moment to curse the universe.
They take a moment to question god's plan.
They take a moment to despise their fate.
They take a moment to send each other silent messages to pick up their lost fitting pieces of their soul and complete them.
But they instead lose a few tears which slides from their cheeks to the ground shattering into many pieces just as their shattered souls.
The girls keep their head up, wipes away the tears and stretch the corners of their lips wider than before and march back home.
While the old man drowns himself in an eerie mixture of tears and alcohol like he does every other day and every other night.
While the life in the city goes on in hustle like every other decade, every other year obliviously.
◦ -Riya Saluja
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 05/23/2019
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