Trodden Houses Poem by Dr Shamim ali

She resides among the trodden houses
Beside the snow clad mountains
Abode is made of clay and stones
No window planned to look out side
Door was not built even
No one was there to please her
No one was there to care for
Everyone is living their own life
No morning sleeps
No late night dinners
She lived here unidentified
And no one could know
What she used to be
Epitaph tells the same story
Made of loam
Became part of loam
It was her fate
By
Shamim Ali