A Memory

The sun was brightly adoring the fields,
the old and rusty trees lined up against the grain sheets,

The road was smooth and grey,
as i journeyed for my destination accross days,

after a couple of hours every field looked the same,
trees looked alike, steady but lame,

Cities passed, villages stirred ,
bridges were crossed and mountains were swirled,

songs played and replayed in the car,
but the journey sensed so dull than its start,

when just a peep out of the window and a lightning striked across my mind,
as i saw the broken house, its grandeur seemed to be grinned,

I stared onto it, at those rusty windows and moss covered walls,
the leaf strewn porch and the garden looking raw,

I stopped the car and walked the grubbly lane to the house,
dilapidated and left into pieces, i entered it , with the gate shreaking loud,

the place called to me ,as did the broken pots and weeds around the broken bench,
the cracked stairs , the dusty tiles as if were fullfilling my hearts lost quench,

blood rushed through my fingers, as i touched the tinted window pane,
the faded patches colouring the walls nummed my head into pain,

all of it seemed so familiar, every corner and and every shattered door,
the tilted cupboard , muddy platform, brought me images scary and sore,

my feet could not lead me out , and my memories stormed into clouds,
the wind brought warmth , but the dust clogged me into forgotten spiral rounds,

i went through the shards again and again,
and everytime they clasped into me with more strength,

i had experienced something,
but forgotten everything,

as the whirlwind took off my senses, i ran out the rocks into the open light,
my heart skipped a beat , and skin burned as i tore the urge, with a fight,

the journey began again, as i last glanced at the vacant house,
it screamed to me, and i frowned at its sight.

unforseen and irrational was my experience with the place,
who knows what relation i had, when and how, with that dwindling maze,

years passed and memories drained
but yet that warmth of the wind, still remains in some rusty part of my brain.