Lavender-eyed Bougainvillea creeper looks at me from the weather-beaten window pane, A timepiece tick-tocks tiredly trailing on time’s track White-washed walls exhibit the grubby graffiti and dusty doodles of the pathetic past.
A lame light winks at me from above my ruffled bed. Salty smell of sweat sails with sooty breeze of the blackened revolving fan. Lying idly in the bare bookshelf a broken ball-pen mocks at me.
A pale photograph smiles at me. from the limping table midst stale stubs of scalded desires and scattered ashes of aches overflowing from the ash-tray of life.
Watching the rusted reflections from the ‘lost paradise’ of my devastated dreams, I drowsily drift into a maze of memoirs - where cobwebs of crawling years dangle on the wispy walls of blurred recollections and cacophony of life dances to the melancholic melody of death’s symphony, while I embrace my solitude ...
