They rest
With pale shadows
Gazing at the changing horizons
Haunting me.
I can’t hear
The echo of my heart
Lost in the exasperating crowd.
My ancestors lived in them.
The ever widening roads
And pigeon holes
Brushed them away.
They are now ruins!
We engrave
Our beloved ones names
On their walls
Spit ugly colors
But they still
Gaze at my offspring and murmur
“This was an abode of ours”
3 comments:
Through the magnificence of its monuments, history always turns around to glance at us and remind us – yes they too were there, and so they, and we too shall be remaining so- through your lines dear Satya Srinivas Sir.
Thanks Vijay Vaghela
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