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Her Room
I stare at her room
Messy but aesthetic,just like her
The books are piled over the sheets
I remember how she lay amidst them-
supine,with legs on the walls
White walls dirty with dusty foot.
Pinch pleat curtains and complicated artworks
Dead chrysanthemums on floral japanese vase
Bindis stuck on the Almirah mirror
Red.Black.Maroon.
A few old cassettes and her favourite band posters.
The muslin shawl she used to wear
Chestnut brown jutis and Kohlapuri sandals
An old hmt watch she wore everyday in memory of her dada
Everything scattered in that messy room
Displaced but somehow precise.
The room is her.
Every corner is an inanimate version of her.
The dusty papers on the table caught my attention.
Words.
Words spilled from her fountain pen.
Congregate thoughts.Perfect metaphors.
Dreams.
Dreams of an old town girl.
Dreams she dreamt sitting in her room.
Dreams as dead as her.
©scribblingsofateen
Messy but aesthetic,just like her
The books are piled over the sheets
I remember how she lay amidst them-
supine,with legs on the walls
White walls dirty with dusty foot.
Pinch pleat curtains and complicated artworks
Dead chrysanthemums on floral japanese vase
Bindis stuck on the Almirah mirror
Red.Black.Maroon.
A few old cassettes and her favourite band posters.
The muslin shawl she used to wear
Chestnut brown jutis and Kohlapuri sandals
An old hmt watch she wore everyday in memory of her dada
Everything scattered in that messy room
Displaced but somehow precise.
The room is her.
Every corner is an inanimate version of her.
The dusty papers on the table caught my attention.
Words.
Words spilled from her fountain pen.
Congregate thoughts.Perfect metaphors.
Dreams.
Dreams of an old town girl.
Dreams she dreamt sitting in her room.
Dreams as dead as her.
©scribblingsofateen
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