Stillness of life

Stagnant but not yet still,

Doesn’t the room seem filled.

With the surroundings quite colourful

Nostalgic black and white pictures appear soulful!

Pickled jars in porcelain painted in the colour of mud,

Suddenly a green painted book falls in a thud.

Magazines strewn on the table in indignation,

Whilst the cushions lie squashed beyond recognition!

Dusty windows dirtied even more,

Reflect washed clothes plonked on the floor.

A burnt shaded corduroy jacket in the ubiquitous hangers,

Scratched wooden tables coloured in amber!

Spaces having no reason to be lonely...if not missed,

Forgotten leaves lie wind ripped.

Smoke smells suddenly aggravates the sense,

Dark soot colours the air very dense.

Outside orange hues descend upon the skies

With enveloping sounds of the seas.

Air laden with bird’s songs beckon us,

Emptiness around the trees almost threaten us!

Lonesome have become the streets,

With Interspersed empty spaces as activities cease!

Why aren’t there people outdoors?

Homes have now become their protective temple doors...