The living room of memories (Poem 28 NaPoWriMo)

This poem is dedicated to my Nani. I love you, wherever you are.


A bench hangs –
in the middle of the room,
Supported by steel: painted gold
running up high to the walls,
hooked up- making a long swing for four.

As the swing moved faster,
my legs touched he T.V,
which was box-like but big big
Bigger than the height of me,
Cartoons and more cartoons every day,

The floor had a weird tiling,
All greyish with little spots
of all colors in them,
Rough crusted like the hill,
Wouldn’t hurt my legs without shoes
though.

A bed settled at the other corner,
My uncle would often sit there,
Sometimes even my grandpa with
a newspaper in hand.

Behind the TV set was a window
with lines in them,
All white but soily
as was not cleaned now and then.

On the big wooden where the
TV set,
lied the purses and keys of everyone
living there,
Some keys clinked when the
the wind would be fast,
The apartment of others was
to be also a view from there.

A few years later,
a body would lie there
without a beating heart,
I cried and I cried but they
didn’t stop.

The swing was still there,
so was the bed,
My uncle would sit there
so would my grandpa with newspaper.

Above the tv set
hung a photo frame,
a smile on her face,
a tear on mine.

I did not visit that house ever again.

~Krupali


You can check out all my poems here.

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