An Eleven Year Old Mention

They entitle it; yet another shadowy scene; a night of dissatisfaction

Welcome to a delusion, an eleven year old mention;

Few rooms, a kitchen and dark;

With few entrants, and a park;

Pretty at first, vacant at the next sight

Austere or steady? Luxurious or might?



A giant white door opens with a sinister sound;

Air so tepid, place so serene, bricks yet loopy, stockades still around;
One of a kind mention, a legendary found.

Gorgeous plot with roses of jasmine,

Days of fame instants unseen;

Covered with dew, every leaf,

Nights of fall, howls in grief;



Rooms full of drawers, blank as they were,

Triviality in life or just a metaphor?

Mirror soaked, as a cascade in sunshine,

Emergence so tedious, wind inter-twined;

Aloofness at heart, or just history?

No place to unwind, still, roars left auditory.


A massive stairway leading to the roof,

Too many steps, each step each proof,

A huge vase lies in the middle, sparkling as new;
On the contrary, yet, to the house, a riddle;

Roof was also, empty as a plate,

Still the coldness grabbing me it's been too late;

In the backyard a tree deep rooted,

Needs water, in order to be fruited.

Only branches like a skeleton remain

With the wind it shutters, suffering pain.

Yet, it's so high, almost reaching the clouds;
With this pretense…. it's reach, I doubt!

With it, a faultily bent clamor chair;

Moving too n fro, like someone was just there.

At habitual I grasped, it was too much to see.

It was a no man's land, the only person there was me.

by Iram Nazir

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