An old woman sitting on her rocking chair, looking blankly outside.
A face with bloodshot eyes under the blackest of veils.
The sound of rain hitting the pavement.
An old bony dog with chains clattering as it walks.
Remnants of a once-beautiful and now-abandoned house.
Silence and darkness.
A wrecked car.
Cold food.
A man calling his family overseas.
A woman in her thirties telling her mother,
"Can't you remember who I am?"
Her mother peacefully sat on the rocking chair,
still looking blankly outside.
When she looked at her daughter, she said,
"Sorry, who are you again?"
YOU ARE READING
Scribbles of the Heart
PoetryPoetry collection of thoughts, feelings, and random snippets of my everyday life.
