ON LEAVING THE
HOUSE
G. Somaseshu
“Oh, nothing left:” they said and spied
with piercing looks; my bosom sighed
My legs slow-dragged; the house appeared
A maid with all her dear charms sheared
Years of closeness out off in a trice
We move like pawns in a game of dice
I passed past cobwebs brushed across my face
The broom swept dust above from old terrace
Bundles packed quick with ruthless haste
All writers hurled like junk sans taste
Old goods of years’ service dismist
To find their place amidst rag-pickers’ list
Huddled against each other boxes scratched
Bruised and pitted, but none has watched
Tomorrow, a newer realm unknown
Like souls leaving for a new sojourn
My heart like a whelp still sniffed there
Unwilling to depart, but who will care
They know not treasures of feelings left
The links unseen and heart-strings cleft
A missing beat in rhythm of life
Upset some what by deep-felt strife
My mind’s eye saw heaps of broken dreams
Hopes, smiles, faces and trails of tearful streams
Like musty silver-fish and marks of many a pest
Let loose while throwing a broken chest
I’ve too grown old with these things long stored
Is this my fate, new times with old too bored
“All is well-packet” a harsh sound stirred me next
I left-uprooted at once – a life-long wandering guest.