Nor any husky voice admonishing:
'You never carry your phone along
How to reach you, if it's alarming?'
The door stands ajar, way I had left
Here lies my book, upturned, bereft.
The living space bears...a stamp of
Soliloquy & its emptied warp & weft.
Oh my happenstance, o my solitude!
Where's gone thine benign beatitude?
The only thing that beckons me here
Is the ubiquitous silence of Infinitude.
This house used to be a home once
Inviting, loving, caring...every ounce.
Full of tranquility & balmy fragrance
Of unbroken elegance at first glance.
Now it is.. a pile of stones and bricks
And a bundle of multitudinous flicks.
Pollyanna.. it's not any longer a home
Will you come......to charm the matrix?
Om Shantih
Ajit Sambodhi.
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