The Old Oasis

Jump to Comments

Open up these balconies
Scratch away the dust
Gathered for years
In and out
From formation of time
And confrontations
Of humans and their lives

As I move around,
From one room to another
In gathered dust and shadows
In residence, the old objects
Of my mother and her belongings
Years of solace and view
Of the desert and possession
In a land, now only in dreams

As I move around,
Those mystical potions
Of memory and absence
Of existence and of passion
Of dreams and of living
Like writings on the wall
“I was here”, there lived me

As I move around,
With whispers and games
With tiny steps and mischief
In gathered dust and shadows
The old voices speak to me
In its walls, in its surroundings
As I am greeted by this old oasis!

Kashkin

0 Comments

Filed under Society, Writers, poetry

Tags: desert, Home, Memories