Fulcrum Poem by aparna devalla

Empty house, the walls are mocking
You are seated here, when the world is working
You have the energy, age and the time,
To Pick up the left over journey of life.

You wanted to be a manager,
Or a teacher or a librarian
You can be a social bee,
Cruising along the oceans.

You wanted to own a villa,
With a pool, and a huge garden
A home, created on your own,
Living a life of your dream.

You seem content, just an enabler,
Maybe a fulcrum, or a punching bag
As your dear ones, run in their lives
Cramming your path, littering your dreams.




I told my mocking walls, don’t be so naïve,
I will have a smile when I go to grave,
That will show you, I enjoyed my life
You will never know, how? When? And why?