Glass house

[The word was given 'glass house']

How many days or months

Had passed

Or how many years

Since the day

The house had shattered

It's only the pieces now

Scattered all around

Crippled and cold

Who says time never stops

Time has centuriated

Time has become old

----

[The words were given 'façade' and 'rendezvous' by one of my friends. Then the poem finds its relevance to some recent incidents I am going through; 8-Jun-2021.]

A car was sitting there

In the façade

With a lady in it

Shall I say both were weathered

Yet elegant

How old she could be

Or the car

That it is red and tattered

Wonder what she might smell like

Or how does her eyes smile

Does she too like living in an offbeat

And defies life

Rendezvousing with memory

I am sitting near my window

Longing for the long-lost

Cuddles of father

I try to remember

How did mother smell

When she pulled me out of my blanket

In those wintery mornings

Did her eyes smile too

I looked out towards the façade

The car is gone

And so is the lady

Memory is an old car

Red, tattered

Yet detailed and enduring.

Timeless momentariness

[Borrowed the name from Samudra Kajal Saikia Da's comment when the poem was posted in my FB timeline]

I am sitting in my veranda,

Amidst all the hustle and bustle outside my window.

The random people, the roads,

The buses, cars, or the houses around ....

I wonder what stories they could be living

Or which one could be similar as mine

I keep nomadizing

Drifting from one thought to another...

Getting lost in own thoughts

Can also be so peaceful

I just realized.

A bunch of drying leaves, I kept in my veranda.

Blending in yellow & green

Life and death are

The stories they are telling

Does it make death more beautiful

More divine

I do not know, I never wondered

There, I wasn't sad, I wasn't content either.