Possessed

This house closes on me, its walls are about to come down,

This house is still fragrant with the scent of your memories,

This house weeps every night, its sniffles reverberating the entire night.

This house is tumbling down, the tiles on the roof slide down during the day in your commemoration.

This bed on which I sleep wakes to your touch every night

This pillow that I rest my head on is used to your curls caressing it.

This wind chimes hanging on the window sill mourns at the lightest breeze.

This dressing table mirror keeps reflecting your lovely form.

This green sofa in the drawing room still holds the open book that you left on it,

This dining table misses the aroma, the spices and the flavours of your hand cooked meal.

This painting on the stairs, a shepherd looking after the lambs now awaits your return.

This floor yearns to listen to the sound of your feet, the anklets jingling along.

This house and everything within it is dying wrapped in the shroud of your memories.