wintry house
Wednesday writing essential
The long tortuous road with wintry wind
playing with fistful of dirt thrown at us.
With a cloud over our heads we
used to progress. "Here it is." Dad's favorite
winter hunt was a lonely brunt out house,
he had planned to develop, a raw plan,
destined to be kept on hold forever.
I didn't mind once we traveled the path.
The broken windows and grass on the floor
had a world of play, secret games of
innocent vagueness. Still it made us sad.
Sadness like winter on our garden.
And then one winter dad said," No picnic."
The house and lands were not ours since then.
A cloud rained heavily inside.
I had lost a crippled close friend.
© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar


Comments: 49
destined to be kept on hold forever" . . . thank you for the enlightenment and great poetry !
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Thank you for posting our group! Cheers, Julia
Nice writing my friend.
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Blessings and best wishes - S.
This is beautiful.
My computer is moving very slowly today, so sorry for the very short comment.
Thanks for posting to my group, Anythingwriting
Thanks for posting in Journey Into Poetry !