Mrs. P's House Poem by Tito Rajarshi Mukhopadhyay

Mrs. P's empty house, insomniac as an old guard,
Watches the new town grow around its weed filled yard,

While standing on a frozen time, stagnant air behind the cold
Walls with dusty layers under creepers and mould,

While knowing that it would be demolished soon
As the contractors discussed earlier - before June

And listens to the trapped sounds, always too familiar-
Of ghostly footsteps or running rats, it alone can hear,

Then tries to ignore their running about, digging floors
While preserving frozen sounds behind its doors.
-
Tito Rajarshi Mukhopadhyay