memories of home: a poem

A poem

It's been moments or minutes 

Or is it hours i stood 

Staring at these faded

 beige walls that 

echo every last memory

etched into their bricks

The rusted windows

and their sooty panes

that let sunshine greet me

every summer morning 

The old broken shelves 

that still held the suspended

paintings, the faded

polaroids and precious

memories stored in bottles 

The floors that remembers 

the sound of footsteps on 

rickety stairs like a 

soothing yet out of tune song 

The terrace that held

nostalgia of moments under

The moonlit starry skies

The small kitchen garden that 

still houses the withered 

blooms of spring evenings

The porch that still hold

the traces of chipped 

paint strokes and the

fading imprints of pink

hearts and orange butterflies 

And the roof that remembers

the sound of pattering raindrops

and joyous carefree laughter

The worn out bed that still 

reminiscences the pleasing 

smell of vintage books and

afternoon coffee stains

Now all my things are packed in 

Cardboard boxes

Photographs, withered flowers

Some books and old letters

Fades dresses and paintbrushes

All the traces of life erased

From the brick building 

That has been my home since forever

To the door that welcomed

me home everytime

Now it feels surreal to 

say a single "goodbye"

The wind whispers as always, 

kisses me for the final time as 

I closed the door to my

Longing heart's haven 

Somewhere in it's corners 

buried deep inside is a 

treasure chest of memories i 

preciously treasured

Now all left for another 

wanderer to discover

Maybe the walls remember 

and maybe they will hold those 

memories for years to come

Hoping someday someone

would remember too

The same longing i carry in my heart

And i will forever bear in my soul

The wistful memory of a long lost

midsummer dream 

of a place called home

By 

Iniya prakasha