Goodbye, my room!

                               Goodbye, my room!

-Shraddha Acharya

 

A cold night and steam of hot tea floating above the cup,

A sight and warmth of pseudo-heat from the heater covering the backdrop

Ahead I saw a pile of dirty laundry waiting for their turns,

An empty mug on the table meant to be filled but no one had concerns

Broken alphabets pasted on a board that want to mean something,

But is only comprehended by the one who had assembled the whole thing

An artificial plant that I had assumed would help me breathe,

Natural breeze through my windows shall now do the job instead

That one blank paper where I wanted to print something,

But it will remain so as more blank are my thoughts becoming

The suitcase supposed to carry my new life now seems a lot heavier,

That sash (written ‘Bride’) still lying on the floor poses weightless but didn’t feel so on my shoulders

Dark curtains that wouldn’t be opened by me every morning nor closed every noon,

Bedsheet that shall remain dusted and unchanged unless I return once every blue moon

But that picture of me shall forever be hung in that old frame,

To remind the walls that the room owner will always be the same,

Who might have forgotten the keys for now in another’s allay,

But will surely find way to return back in that room one day.