A Middle Class Home Poem by K.S.Subramanian Subramanian

You can see it all
in a wedding; clusters
spilling the beans about
their kin; eyeing the
debutants into wedlock with
their web of envy-laced malice.

Their hearths at home
have been burning;
comfort levels as good
as any one else; yet a
nameless vacuum; they
live with it, like dust
in the attic.

It spans the spectrum
of the middle and the
affluent; only the lingo
is of different mien;
sophisticated gossip
sounds sweeter; all
brewing out of
envy-laced malice.

Age withers them;
yet what they learn
in their twenties becomes
an uneasy crown in the
seventies; mind besotted
with conflicts down
the years is face down
before the vacuum;
One looks back to see
the vacuumscape on
either side.

I find it amusing!
the pathos of existence
or its preordained fate?